The Marriage Sham
by MrsMCrieff
Summary: A slow-burn Sherlolly story set after the end of season 2.
1. Chapter 1

**Set after the end of Season 2. **I love the slow burn Sherlolly stories and the ones where they have to pretend to be in a relationship. So here's my take on it. It's one which has lots of interaction with other people and hopefully a bit of humour and romance along the way. I should warn you that although the story has some mystery to it that isn't really my forte, it's more of an excuse for Sherlock and Molly being in the situation they are, so I apologise now if it isn't worthy of Sherlock's deductive skills.

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, Molly or Mycroft. Everything belongs to either ACD, Steven Moffitt or Mark Gatiss and long may they reign.**

**Rated T for now but that will change to an M in later chapters due to smut. If you prefer the M from the start let me know, it will be quite a few chapters in.**

**Chapter 1**

It had been a month now since the day of 'the fall'. Molly couldn't believe how much had changed in that time. She always dreamt about being with Sherlock, living with him but the reality was quite different. He was quite simply driving her mad!

He'd rearrange the front room, the bathroom cabinet, the kitchen cupboards but when she caught him frowning into her wardrobe she'd finally put her foot down. The timid Molly disappearing under the horror of Sherlock rooting through her clothes.

He'd complained about everything, her choice of laptop, the broadband provider, he'd even changed her screensaver from that cute photo of Toby when she'd first brought him home to a picture of a heart following a massive cardiac arrest that she'd put in her laptop as part of a paper she was writing. It's not like she was squeamish, it was her picture after all, but she liked to have some separation between her home and work life.

Not that she could get a look in on the laptop now, Sherlock had been pretty much glued to it since he'd recovered from the fall. She understood that, his need for control, to try to be doing something useful about dismantling Moriarty's network. He was literally going stir crazy cooped up in her flat all day. She'd even come home from work one day to find that he had drawn a smiley face on her living room wall, using one of her old lipsticks, and was firing at it with a water pistol. She had no idea where he'd found the water pistol; she could have sworn she didn't own one. As it turned out the lipstick he'd used was the one she'd worn that time she'd tried to ask him out. She'd never worn it since so she supposed it was no loss, she wasn't sure what the landlord would make of it all though.

The absolute worst bit was that Toby had turned traitor and now spent his nights either curled up in Sherlock's lap whilst he worked at the table or asleep on his bed. He only interacted with Molly when he wanted food.

Molly wasn't sure how much more she could take which was why it was such a surprise to come home, after a particularly hard day at work, to find that Sherlock had cleaned the flat and cooked her a meal. She was immediately suspicious. 'What do you want?'

Sherlock frowned, 'you know it's getting harder and harder to manipulate you! I used to just be able to drop a compliment about your hair or your clothes and you'd be putty in my hands. What happened?'

'You did, Sherlock. Living with you has been an eye opener, I don't know how John put up with you for so long.'

She regretted the words as soon as she said them when she saw the flicker of hurt pass through Sherlock's eyes at the mention of John.

'I'm sorry...' She started to say but Sherlock held his hand up. 'It's irrelevant. Don't trouble yourself with an apology.'

'So what DO you want?' said Molly again in a softer tone.

'I need your help again Molly. I can't stay in London, it's too dangerous for me to leave the flat in case I'm seen, but it can't stay here any longer, it's driving me and you,' he conceded with a raised eyebrow and a smile, 'mad!'

Molly's heart sank, she knew this day would come, the day that he would leave. She knew he couldn't stay forever but even though he'd been winding her up for weeks she'd still enjoyed having him here, having someone to come home too. It had made her realise just how lonely and empty her home life was.

She tried to raise a smile for him.

'So, what's the plan?'

I'm following up various leads with Mycroft most of which his agents will deal with in town but there is one, it's not a very important lead but it is based out in Hampshire so I could change my appearance a bit and go in undercover. I've spoken to Mycroft and he's arranging for you to be given an indefinite leave of absence at work, you just need to make sure you look really emotional at work, about my death of course, break down a bit, you know...the usual. We can set off...'

This time it was Molly's turn to put her hand up. 'Hang on, what, I mean, he's doing what?' Molly's brain was whirling. She wasn't sure whether she felt confused or angry, no hang on, it was definitely angry. 'What do you mean he's having me signed off work, where exactly am I going and why, why did you not talk to me first Sherlock? This is my job, my life, I'm not just a puppet for you two to use and manipulate.'

Sherlock was beginning to think he might have gone around things the wrong way. He had been so caught up in the case, the work and what he needed to do that he had forgotten that Molly wasn't John. Sherlock couldn't quite bring himself to apologise 'Maybe you're right and I should have discussed this with you before but I...I was worried you might not come with me and I need you.' The last few words came out in a rush, Sherlock wasn't even sure, until he said them, how true they were. He did need Molly. He'd had everything else, everyone else stripped away from him. Yes he still had Mycroft, but Mycroft didn't count, he was colder than Sherlock himself was and Sherlock had come to realise since living with John that he needed the warmth, craved it. So yes he needed to keep Molly with him otherwise he'd fall back into that cold world without friends and without companionship.

Molly sighed, giving in, 'Tell me what you need.' It was becoming the pattern of her life at the moment!

**I realise it's a slow start but the next few chapters are mapped out so I'll try to post chapter two in the next couple of days. Let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The usual disclaimers apply, I own nothing, I only wish I did.**

**Thank you to those that reviewed for their kind comments about chapter 1. **

**Chapter 2**

When she'd asked him 'what he needed' two weeks ago this current scenario had been the furthest from her mind yet here she was 'married' to Sherlock Holmes and unpacking in their first home.

Granted she wasn't actually married to him, instead he had asked her to act as his wife during their undercover excursion into village life. Mycroft had sorted out fake identification and even set up a joint bank account, so here she was, currently Molly Holmes married to William Holmes (his actual first name apparently) even sporting an engagement and wedding ring that Sherlock had given her to wear the day before. She hadn't liked to ask about the rings but they seemed old, as if they were family heirlooms. They hadn't changed Sherlock's surname as he and Mycroft felt it was common enough and almost better to hide in plain sight. If anyone were actually looking for him they wouldn't expect him to keep using it.

Molly had spent last night learning about the lead they were following up and agreeing a back history for her relationship with Sherlock. They were here to try to find out more about a small firm of solicitors which appeared to be acting as a go between, connecting those who needed Moriarty's services to his organisation. The small cottage that they were renting was owned by the solicitor and they were hoping that this would give them a bit of an 'in' with him.

Molly was certainly surprised however to discover that the house was only one bed roomed. She wasn't the only one. Sherlock had texted Mycroft to complain as soon as he had realised but the reply of _Needs must brother dear MH _had done nothing to improve his temper. She could hear him banging about downstairs in the small study unpacking his books and laptop (her laptop!) etc.

The cover story was that they were a newly wed couple and following a small inheritance (aunt on her side) they had rented this cottage so that William/Sherlock could work on writing his first novel. This helped to explain the lack of need for work and Sherlock's need to be working in the study undisturbed a lot.

Molly thought back to the previous night when they had still been at her flat.

'Are you sure you can pull this off?' Molly had asked Sherlock.

'What do you mean?' He'd snapped with a shocked look on his face.

'Well, how can I put this...'

'However you like, just spit it out!'

'Well, you're not exactly known for your tact, you just look at someone and the deductions flow whether they are kind or otherwise. It doesn't exactly suit undercover work as a married writer does it?' She winced as she said the word married but carried on regardless. She'd never seen Sherlock act nice for more than a couple of minutes so couldn't see how this would work.

'I am very good at exercising control when I have to Molly! It won't be a problem.'

'OK then, fine' she mumbled and had gone back into her room to carry on packing.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock meanwhile was downstairs in the study which was housed in an extension just off the kitchen/front room. He'd finished sorting his things out and was lying on the small couch, situated against one wall, with his legs dangling over the end. He was in his mind palace organising his thoughts. Strangely they kept coming back to the moment he had given Molly his grandmother's rings. He really hadn't thought anything of it when Mycroft had mentioned using them. He'd considered them to be his own for a while now. Given Mycroft's sexual proclivities it wasn't likely he would ever use them so it was unspoken between them that they would be Sherlock's if he were ever to need them.

He'd never really thought beyond that, had never considered being in any kind of romantic relationship so they had been sat in a safe at Mycroft's house since his grandmothers death ten years ago.

He just hadn't expected his stomach to twist when he had watched Molly slide the rings onto her finger. He didn't know what it meant if anything at all.

If Sherlock were honest this was easily a lead that Mycroft's people could have followed up but he needed to get out of London, be in a place where he could move about freely without fear of recognition. He had made some minimal alterations to his appearance, his hair was shorter, he had a pair of black rimmed, plain glass glasses and the clothing that Mycroft had provided was much more casual, all jeans and t-shirts. He could have sworn Mycroft was laughing at his expense with some of the Doctor Who and something called 'Big Bang Theory' t-shirts but he would just make them part of this persona. Plus if he carried on being honest he could have done all this alone, but he didn't want to. He was glad Molly had agreed to come with him. He wanted, no needed, someone he could be himself with.

It was at that moment that he heard the front door open and heard someone shout, 'Cooeeeee, anyone home'.

He stood and made his way through to the small living room. There was a blond woman, mid 50s though obviously try to pass for mid 40s. Married, not happily, probably having an affair though he'd need a bit more information to confirm that.

'Hi, I'm William, Will for short'. He smiled openly and held out his hand.

She shifted the plate of cookies that she'd brought with her and shook his hand. 'I'm Helen, my husband owns the cottage. I knew you were moving in today so I thought I'd welcome you to the village and bring you a moving in gift'. She held out the plate of cookies which Sherlock took smiling again.

'How's the move going? Do you or your wife need any help?' She looked around nosily. Sherlock could tell she was checking out their meagre belongings and looking for Molly.

He moved to the stairs and shouted up 'Molls, darling, we have company.'

He turned back to Helen, taking in her clothes, (expensive) her jewellery, (old and valuable probably heirlooms) so monied. He put on his Will persona, smiling again, so much damned smiling. 'The move has been fine, we haven't got much stuff so it's been good finding somewhere furnished. We're newly weds. Isn't that right Molls?' He said turning to Molly who had just made her way downstairs. He put his arm round her waist pulling her against him. He felt her stiffen and cursed himself for not 'practising' this beforehand.

Molly confirmed the story, introduced herself and chatted easily with Helen. She was good at making small talk when it was someone other than him and he congratulated himself again on bringing her along, she might actually come in useful when exploring this lead.

By the end of the chat the two women seemed to be well into the start of a friendship with Helen inviting Molly round for coffee the next day.

As she was leaving she turned and mentioned a charity dance that was being held in the village hall in a couple of days time. 'You must come, it'll will be a perfect opportunity for you to meet my husband Gordon and the rest of the local community. It starts at 8.00pm what do you say?'

Molly turned to Sherlock and he could swear she had an evil glint in her eye, 'Oh we'd love to, wouldn't we darling? Will absolutely loves dancing, don't you? One of our first dates was to an old fashioned dance hall in London and he swept me off my feet'.

She smiled up at him, 'she's quite right, I do love to dance' he replied trying to keep his voice natural.

'Perfect', said Helen and said the words that put dread into Sherlock's heart, 'we're always short of men at these dances so you'll be in hot demand. Just watch out for Beth Thornhill, I hear she can be a bit of a bottom pincher.'

She laughed along with Molly before promising to save them seats at her table and saying again how happy she was with them moving to the village.

Sherlock was just happy to close the door behind her, his previous forays into undercover work had been much less provincial and chatty. For the first time he wondered if he really were cut out for this kind of character. He scowled at Molly who was still giggling to herself at the idea of Sherlock fending off elderly, groping dance partners. He tried to muster what dignity he had left and stalked back to his study.

**Hope you're enjoying it so far. I'll try and update fairly regularly. If you like, please review.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So here is my latest instalment. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, followed or favourited, you are giving me the confidence to continue.**

**So here it is the day of the dance. How will Sherlock cope?**

**Disclaimer - I owe everything to those that are better than me - ACD, Emmy award winning Moffatt and Gatiss**

**Congratulations to Benedict and Martin for their Emmys too. Long May Sherlock continue!**

**Chapter 3**

By the day of the dance Molly and Sherlock had settled into a routine of sorts. Sherlock tended to work late into the night on his laptop and would come up to bed either just before or shortly after Molly had vacated it. He'd then spend the morning sleeping whilst she explored the village and surrounding area. She'd grown up in a village so she was enjoying getting back into village life.

It was the normal round of gossip and community spirit and being the newcomer she was in hot demand. Everyone seemed to stop her to chat and find out all about her and Will, how they'd met, why they were here. Each time Molly seemed to add a little bit more detail which she would pass on to Sherlock. His discomfort at some of the romance she'd added in just encouraged her to think of more. Most people knew by now that he had proposed on her 30th birthday by taking her on a riverboat trip near where she'd grown up in Norfolk. He'd brought her breakfast in bed and perched the ring on top of a croissant.

So far she hadn't missed work too much but it had been years since she'd had any decent amount of time off so it was a well deserved break.

She would normally bring back something light for lunch for her and Sherlock. He'd eat his in his study. In the afternoons she'd either read, or go for a walk in the local countryside before tackling some kind of cooked meal for dinner. She'd never been much of a cook so she'd decided to use this time to improve her skills. Apart from a disastrous lasagna that neither of them had been able to eat she wasn't doing too bad. Sherlock was pretty silent on the subject of her attempts and she wasn't sure whether that was because they were OK or because he knew better than to comment.

She'd made a point of making him join her for dinner. She'd told him it was important that she fill him in on any of the village gossip in case it was important but really it was because she missed his company and it was good for him to get out of the study for a bit not to mention eat.

Molly was quite excited about the dance, she had to keep reminding herself that they weren't really a couple but she still felt like she was getting ready for a date as she showered and dressed for the evening's activities. She was wearing a simple white summer dress covered with large purple flowers, with a white cardigan to compensate for the autumnal evenings. They'd been enjoying a bit of a late summer so the evenings were still quite warm even though it was almost October.

Sherlock was less excited about the dance. Although Molly hadn't realised it at the time it was true that he loved to dance and he'd had plenty of lessons in his youth. What he was less certain about was having to dance with strangers. He shuddered at the thought and made the decision to stick to dancing with Molly or at a push Helen, after all he might be able to get some information about her husband's firm from her.

Sherlock kept his outfit simple just smart jeans and a purple button up that Molly had bought for him in the village. It looked suspiciously like a shirt he'd owned back in Baker Street that he knew was one of Molly's favourites. He'd seen how her eyes dilated whenever he'd worn it to the morgue.

They set off just before 8.00. The village hall was walking distance so they linked arms and strolled along looking to all the world like the newly weds they were supposed to be.

Molly couldn't quite believe she got to touch Sherlock on a regular basis and was thoroughly enjoying it. His arm was all bone and muscle. She could feel his bicep under her fingers and could smell his freshly applied cologne. Deep down she knew she needed to be careful, to try to keep her feelings under control. This situation was only temporary and if she wasn't careful she was heading for an emotional crash when it ended. But she couldn't bring herself to think about the future, she was enjoying the present and that was all that mattered tonight.

When they arrived they were surprised at how many people had turned up. The hall was full of people chatting, buying drinks from the makeshift bar in the corner and lining up on the dance floor for the first dance.

Helen spotted them and called them over to one of the tables that was positioned around the outside of the dance floor.

'Gosh, it's a good job you saved us some seats Helen, I hadn't realised it would be so busy,' said Molly taking off her cardigan and putting it and her bag on the spare seat next to Helen.

'Oh these events are always jam packed, not that much excitement in a village so everyone tends to turn up. Let me introduce you to my husband, Gordon. Gordon, this is the couple who have started renting Ivy Cottage, Will and Molly.'

Gordon was in his late 50s with greying hair. Still in reasonably good shape Molly could tell that he would have been quite good looking in his youth. He had an open, friendly face and greeted them both like old friends. He kissed Molly on the cheek and shook Sherlock's hand whilst telling them how much he had heard about them from his wife and asking how they were settling in at the cottage.

'Our son, Rob, used it for a while after he'd finished university before he moved to London but it's just been lying empty since then. Glad to see someone making use of it, and to get a bit of a return on the investment. Now what can I get you from the bar, my treat, after all you're paying for it really.' He laughed at his own joke, Molly and Sherlock laughing along with him politely. He ended up getting Molly a white wine and soda and Sherlock a pint of lager.

They sat for a while watching the first dance whilst Sherlock casually asked Gordon about his business, expressing interest in the life of a village solicitor and what kind of work that entailed.

Molly and Helen caught up with what they'd each been doing recently until Helen declared it was time for a dance.

Molly was suddenly worried about whether Sherlock was even able to dance. She'd thought it was a good joke when she'd stated that he loved dancing to Helen but what if he had two left feet. As they walked hand in hand to the dance floor she questioned him quietly but he just smirked at her and told her not to worry before pulling her swiftly against him, one hand on her lower back and the other holding her hand.

Molly had to admit he was a very good dancer. He led her round the floor effortlessly, more than making up for any mistake she might make. She was enjoying being so close to him, feeling his hand low on her back holding her close. He looked into her eyes, smiling and she knew she was in serious danger of falling even harder for him. She knew her heart rate had elevated being so close to him but she hoped beyond hope that he thought that reaction was due to the dancing.

Towards the end of the dance she could see a worried V between Sherlock's eyes as they swept round the room. 'Whats wrong?' She asked, following his gaze. 'Helen was right,' he replied. 'There aren't many men dancing. Just,' she swore he gulped, 'don't leave me OK.'

She grinned suddenly, in recognition. 'Are you scared Mr Holmes! Oh this is too good.' She started giggling as they finished the dance.

They lined up for the next dance and it was only once it started that Sherlock realised it was one that involved the outside line of partners moving on one person each time the music repeated. He groaned internally, plastering a rictus grin on his face and eyeing the line of middle aged and elderly women that he would have to dance with.

By the end of the dance he realised why most of the men had stayed seated. He had never realised older women could be so forward or so invasive of his personal space. He had never ever had so many different peoples hands on his backside so it was with relief that he made his way back to Molly and their table.

Molly and Helen just looked at him and laughed.

He spent sometime ingratiating himself with Gordon, still trying to find out as much as he could about his business without being too obvious. He didn't strike Sherlock as suspicious himself. If anything he seemed too transparent. He'd lived in the village his whole life, apart from the years he spent at university training to take over the family business. He married the local beauty, Helen, as they were both expected too by their families, neither of them rocking the boat. He was happy with his life, his job and his marriage although it seemed interminably boring to Sherlock's eyes.

Sherlock could tell he played golf, probably did the gardening and was a drinker but he asked about his hobbies and interests all the same. As Sherlock had deduced he liked golf and gardening, the only slightly unusual fact being that he brewed his own beer as well as drinking it. 'You must come over one night to sample my home brews. Bring Molly and we'll make an evening if it. Helen's been on one of those gourmet cookery courses recently so she'll be only too happy to cook for someone other than myself. Isn't that right dear?'

He turned to Helen who agreed with him straight away. 'Yes of course, how about Friday, come round about 7.30?'

'We'd love too, wouldn't we Molls?' Sherlock replied, putting his arm round Molly's shoulder as they sat side by side.

It was at that moment that he saw Beth Thornhill making a beeline for him across the room. She'd been one of the worst for groping him when he'd danced with her earlier. Happy that the dance that was just starting was a simple waltz he grabbed Molly's hand, 'come on love lets have another dance, just the two of us.' He smiled at Helen and Gordon as he and Molly made their way back into the dance floor noticing Beth's face fall as they did.

He took Molly in his arms again with relief. He liked how comfortable he felt around Molly. She was easy to get on with and it never felt like she was encroaching in his personal space when they danced, it was as though she belonged there, making him feel relaxed rather than stressed. He grimaced to himself, god he almost sounded sentimental, he needed to get a grip before he stooped to the level of the rest of them, wallowing in emotions, using his brain for trivia and not proper work. Still he couldn't deny that he was enjoying dancing with Molly. He'd always liked dancing and she matched him step for step as they spun and twirled. Maybe he'd take her dancing in London once he'd cleared his name.

'You two make a lovely couple,' said Helen on their return to the table. 'I can always tell how compatible a couple are by how they dance and you two are very well suited.'

Sherlock saw Molly blush and look down at her feet embarrassed. It was totally the wrong reaction from a new bride so he lifted her chin with his finger, looked her directly in the eye and murmured, 'yes, we are! Very suited.' Then he kissed her lightly on the lips.

He'd only meant to distract Helen and Gordon from Molly's embarrassment but he was unprepared for how he himself would react to the kiss. His heart beat sped up and all of a sudden he felt hot and filled with a strange nervous energy. He pulled away from Molly looking in her eyes again seeing her pupils blown black, feeling her accelerated pulse under his fingers where he was still lightly holding her wrist. They were still staring at each other when Gordon cleared his throat and laughed jokily 'get a room you two!'

Sherlock broke eye contact and laughed, 'sorry, some days I still can't believe she said yes, I'm the luckiest guy in the world.'

The dance started to break up soon after, Molly and Sherlock said their goodbyes, leaving the hall hand in hand. The walk back to the cottage was quiet with both lost in their own thoughts and neither wanting to discuss them with the other. Once they'd lost sight of any others Sherlock dropped Molly's hand as though it were burning him, in a way it was. His mind was swirling, he needed to go to his mind palace, to go through everything Gordon had said, checking for any clues and he needed to delete that kiss from his brain. He'd just started to realise how dangerous Molly was for him. He couldn't afford to lose himself in sentiment, he needed to focus. Once they were back in the cottage Sherlock ignored Molly, striding to his study and shutting the door. He didn't dare look at or talk to Molly until he'd purged his mind.

**Thoughts please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for the positive responses. onto the next chapter, the fallout from 'the kiss'.**

**Chapter 4**

Molly had been in a state of confusion since the dance two nights ago. She knew that something odd had happened between her and Sherlock, but she wasn't quite sure what and she was worrying that she was letting this weird adventure set her up for a big fall. To top it all she had hardly seen Sherlock. He'd locked himself in his study the night of the dance and barely come out since. Even when she'd knocked on the door to tell him that food was ready he'd just shouted at her to go and leave him in peace.

She knew he'd eaten some food, when she'd been out shopping one morning, from all the mess he'd left behind in the kitchen and she'd seen him just now when he'd breezed through the front room on his way to and from the bathroom for a shower but when she'd tried to talk to him he'd just waved her off looking irritated.

Part of her was angry with him but part of her was worried that somehow she'd done something wrong the night if the dance. Maybe she'd come across as too needy or obsessed with him and he was exasperated with her.

She thought back to the night. In reality it had all gone well until the moment that he'd kissed her. She'd realised as it happened that her reaction to Helen's comment was all wrong but it had been her natural reaction. After all she wasn't used to being undercover, she was a pathologist not an actress. And when he had kissed her it was as though she'd received an electric shock. She touched her fingers to her lips closing her eyes and reliving the moment again (not for the first time). His lips had felt so soft against hers, his smell was all around her, she'd felt as though she were intoxicated with him.

God she was in trouble, big trouble. She wanted him so badly, wanted to believe it when he'd looked into her eyes and told the world how well suited they were. If she were to put herself first she should leave this farce, she should run as fast as she could and as far as she could because there was no way she wasn't going to come out of this broken hearted. But she knew she wouldn't. When it came to Sherlock Holmes she would walk over hot coals before she would let him down.

No doubt he'd deduced how that kiss had made her feel and he was doing his best to let her down gently, to make her realise that it wasn't real, just part of the case. That was the real reason for him ignoring her and distancing himself from her, he was embarrassed for her. She felt a blush of shame spread across her cheeks. _Come on Hooper, toughen up and be what he needs you to be!_

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Molly couldn't have been more wrong. Sherlock had spent most of the last couple of days trying to delete that kiss from his mind but to no avail. It seemed to have seeped into his very being and he was disgusted and angry with himself.

It didn't help that there was no new news from Mycroft and he was no further forward on finding out how Gordon's business was linked to Moriarty. He had the meal at theirs tonight so was hoping to find out more then, but that would mean spending time with Molly and he was concerned.

For the first time since the fall he was missing John, really missing him. He could really do with his advice. He needed to get a grip on his...emotions...even in his mind he as much as spat the word out.

He tried to look at it logically. He had been through a lot in the last six weeks, the mind games with Moriarty, the fall, the separation from life as he'd known it. Molly was his only tangible link to the person he had been. Was that why he was feeling things and attaching them to her? He'd always been in such control of his body, he could control his sleep, his need to eat, his physical reaction to women (and regardless of what the papers and Mrs Hudson thought it had always been women). He remembered back to his time with the Woman. Yes he'd been attracted to her both intellectually as well as physically. She'd known that and had thought she could use that to break him. But with plenty of time in his mind palace (and in cold showers) he'd overcome it.

This was different though, he felt different. Molly was his friend, she counted and he needed her. She wasn't a game or a challenge like Irene had been. There had been no emotional attraction that time. If he'd given in it would have been sex, nothing more.

With Molly he could, for the first time, see his life going in a different direction. He'd always seen himself being alone. What was it he'd said to John, 'Alone is what I am, alone protects me.' John had scoffed, of course, pointing out that friends protect him. He hadn't really thought about it since but John had been right. Molly had protected him. Without her he would most likely be dead, the loser in Moriarty's final game.

So for the first time ever he tried to think of his future, a future where he wasn't alone, a future where his grandmothers rings were actually used and not just as props. What scared him the most was how effortlessly appealing it looked. Molly's job and interests suited him, enhanced his work. She cared for him without trying to change him, he could see her slotting into his life without him having to worry about all that commercial, sentimental slop that seemed to form part of modern relationships.

But, and it was a big but, it went against everything that he had ever thought of, everything he had decided about himself. He was and always should be married to his work, what if being with Molly affected his mind, he couldn't afford to be thinking of her, as he was now, rather than thinking about his cases.

So he'd gone round in circles, the last two days, avoiding Molly as much as he could trying to resolve in his own mind the way forward. The trouble was they had dinner booked tonight with Helen and Gordon and he was no further forward. _Better to stick with what is known, solve the case first and worry about my 'feelings' later'. _It was then that he left the study making his way through the front room, ignoring Molly, on his way to the bathroom for another cold shower.

**I hope Sherlock's 'voice' is sounding real. I know he seems a bit Jekyll and Hyde but I feel this situation would be very unusual and confusing as it's his mind fighting with his heart and body. Let me know what you think.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**I got the idea for this chapter from an old James Herriot story where he visits a friend for a meal and is politely forced to drink so much alcohol he ends up plastered. Couldn't resist doing the same to poor Sherlock. **

**As ever I own nothing.**

Sherlock decided in the end to ignore it all. Ignore his feelings and his confused emotions. Ignore the fact that he hadn't spoken to Molly for two days. Just push it all into a cupboard in his mind palace and lock the door.

So, he got ready, chiding Molly to do the same but as they stood in the small front room ready to leave Molly held back looking sad and pensive.

'Sherlock, are we OK...I mean...have I done something to upset you.'

Sherlock closed his eyes, frowning. Of course Molly would blame herself rather than get angry with him, he should have expected that. Why did he always have a blind spot when it came to his own relationships with other people, he could read strangers in seconds but not those closest to him.

He needed to make this right before they went out. They needed to look like a happily married couple.

He took Molly's hand in his and looked her in the eye. He felt his heart beat elevate slightly but ignored it, ignore, ignore, ignore.

'Molly, none of this is your fault, don't ever believe that. I am an awkward, ignorant, obsessive bastard. I have not given consideration for your feelings and for that I apologise.'

He paused, waiting for her response. She looked at him briefly before nodding her head in acceptance.

'Right, let's go then'. He kept hold of her hand, twining his fingers through hers and they set off on the short ten minute walk to Helen and Gordon's carrying some flowers and a bottle of wine, that Molly had bought, as a gift.

MHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly was feeling much more relaxed by the time they arrived. She felt as though she and Sherlock had made up, even though they hadn't actually fought over anything, and she'd enjoyed the walk over. He'd asked her some questions about a paper she'd recently written for _Pathologist Monthly _and they'd chatted easily on the subject.

On their arrival Sherlock had been whisked away by Gordon to his garden shed where he indulged in his hobby of home brew. Molly meanwhile joined Helen in the kitchen offering to help with any of the food prep and getting roped in to de-stemming and chopping strawberries for the desert.

They chatted about various subjects, people they knew etc and Helen offered Molly a glass of wine whilst she worked which Molly accepted happily.

'I should warn you my dear that Will is likely to be a little worse for wear by the end of the evening. Gordon does like a new victim for his home brews and will be happily pouring out multiple pints for your new husband. He loves nothing better than to get someone else's opinion.'

Molly giggled at the thought of Sherlock getting drunk. She wasn't averse to the idea but was a bit worried about him keeping up the act of who they were pretending to be. 'I would have thought he'll be fine. He's not a big drinker but I'm sure he'll shout out when he's had enough.'

Helen just smiled without losing that slightly worried expression.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Meanwhile, back in the shed, Sherlock was starting to wish that he'd eaten something that day. He was already on his fourth pint and Gordon was busy pouring him another eagerly talking about how he'd slightly changed the flavour on this one with god knows what.

Sherlock was keen to keep in Gordon's good books as he was also finding out more about his business whilst they were imbibing. He'd heard that Gordon had inherited the business when his dad died five years ago, that his uncle was still a partner, all be it semi-retired and his son had spent some time gaining experience there following his law degree.

'Come on lad, drink up, I'd really like your opinion on this one here. It's my first foray into wine making using some elderflowers that we've been growing in the garden. Not as much fun for me as brewing beer but I thought it would be a nice change. Helen doesn't like beer so she was quite keen on the idea.'

Sherlock had almost had to down the last pint in one to keep up and was now holding a large glass of white wine. 'I'm not sure I should mix my drinks like this...' he started but was quickly cut off by Gordon.

'Nonsense, how does the old saying go, wine before beer makes you feel queer, beer before wine makes you feel fine! Now drink up and let me know what you think.' He looked at Sherlock expectantly.

Sherlock sipped at the wine and was pleasantly pleased with the flavour. He told Gordon so only to receive a top up for his troubles. He needed to try and focus on the case but it seemed to be getting harder to focus on anything. He was starting to get past tipsy and hit all out drunk and they hadn't even eaten yet but Gordon seemed oblivious, chatting away about work and how much business had picked up in the last few years. Sherlock knew that was pertinent but his brain was starting to feel slow and mellow. Maybe he should just take a night off from the case and relax...with Molly...he could relax with Molly...she was so good to him. He smiled soppily to himself.

It was about that time that Sherlock and Gordon were called back to the house for food.

Molly took one look at Sherlock and knew she was right to be worried. He grinned inanely at her as he came up the path before putting his arm round her shoulders and kissing her sloppily on the cheek. 'Molly', he cried as he saw her, 'my Molly.'

'Hey Will, are you OK? Maybe you should slow down with the drinking a bit.'

'He's fine, aren't you lad?' Replied Gordon, 'he'll feel better with some of Helen's delicious food inside him. Now who's for wine?'

Gordon got to work uncorking another bottle of wine before pouring generous helpings into everyone's glass.

Helen just raised a knowing eyebrow at Molly as they all sat down.

The food was indeed delicious. Molly commented as much to Helen who promised to give her the recipes before she left. Molly mentioned her own recent forays into cooking looking to Sherlock to see if he would join in the conversation but he seemed to be struggling to use his cutlery, he was even biting his lip in concentration. She couldn't help but notice that Gordon who being the perfect _mein host _was quick to top up everyone's glass if they were looking low. She'd managed to put her hand over her glass last time but poor Sherlock hadn't even noticed.

Over dinner Gordon asked Molly about her own career. She had agreed a story in advance with Sherlock so gave her line about having worked previously in hospital administration. Her own job was too specialised for her to actually use not to mention she was probably one of the few women trained in England as well as being published. She really didn't want them googling Molly, Holmes and pathologist as their cover would be blown straight way.

She was however, able to talk quite knowledgeably about life in a hospital so it was a good cover.

'Are you looking for work now?' Gordon inquired pleasantly.

'I haven't been specifically, but I must admit I am starting to miss it. It's a reason to get out of the house and meet people isn't it? Will tends to be locked away in his study writing so it can get quite lonely.'

'Well, why don't you come and do a few hours for me then?' offered Gordon. 'I've got a full time legal secretary and Helen helps out the rest of the time but I know she'd like to reduce her hours, wouldn't you dear, if you were to do some, Molly, that would work out perfectly!'

'Oh yes,' said Helen, 'it would mean I could spend more time in town doing my volunteer charity work. What do you say?'

'Well I'd love to,' Molly replied. 'What do you think Will?' She turned to Sherlock who was looking positively worse for wear.

'No, thatsh great, be jusht what we need...' 'Great, that's settled then,' said Molly quickly, worried about what Sherlock might say inadvertently.

As the meal drew to a close Molly was getting increasingly worried about Sherlock. Whilst he was at least fairly quiet his eyes were looking very glazed and she worried about how much he would be able to continue to keep up the pretense. She'd already seen him look initially confused when Helen had called him Will and given the short answer of 'boring' when asked about his writing.

She was about to thank them and make their excuses when Gordon suggested they retire to the front room.'I have a beautiful 25 year old Talisker Whisky that you absolutely must try,' he said to Sherlock.

'Oh I'm not sure,' said Molly, 'we really ought to get going, you've been so generous'.

'Nonsense, nonsense, it's barely even eleven o'clock. Go on, just a sip, I promise.'

Molly looked to Sherlock for support but he was seemingly passed the point of no return. 'Sounds good to me, don't you worry Molls, I can hold my liqueur. Look at me, I'm fine.'

He looked anything but fine as he staggered his way to the front room narrowly avoiding knocking a vase of flowers over.

Molly watched him frustrated and felt Helen's hand on her arm. 'Don't worry, my dear, he isn't the first to leave this house worse for wear and he won't be the last. Now would you like a nice cup of tea whilst those two enjoy their whisky.'

Once again, as Gordon poured the whisky he seemed to forget to stop, handing Sherlock what looked to Molly more like a triple whiskey rather than the sip he'd promised. He was going to have the hangover from hell tomorrow. Whilst she was still worried for the plan it was funny watching Sherlock trying to sit up straight in his chair and failing, his eyes narrowed, trying to focus on Gordon as he chatted away to him.

'So, do you like this area? Think you might settle down here, maybe have a family?'

Molly blushed at the thought and started to reply, 'well it's still early days we haven't really...'

It was at this point that Sherlock piped up, 'yesh, I've thought about kids. Molly would make a brilliant mum, they'd be intel...intwelli...hintel...bright of coursh, with my hair and Molly's eyes...I like Molly's eyes. They're warm like chocolate...my Molly.' He grinned at her owlishly, looking for all the world like a drunk man in love.

'Well that settles it then,' said Gordon, laughing at the look of surprise on Molly's face. 'Looks like you're having babies'.

Molly managed to extract them both shortly after, firmly refusing to let Sherlock 'have another whisky for the road'. 'Are you going to be OK getting him home? said Helen looking with concern at Sherlock swaying on the doorstep.

'Yes, he's still on his feet and it's not far, the fresh air will probably do him good. Thank you again for tonight we've really enjoyed ourselves.' 'Have we' murmured Sherlock but Molly ploughed on regardless, 'and thanks again for the offer of a few hours work. I'll pop in next week to see when would be good'.

She waved again as they made their way down the path, guiding Sherlock who was leaning on her a bit more heavily than she'd expected.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMH

It was slow progress on the way back to the cottage. Molly was staggering herself under Sherlock's weight and she desperately needed him to help more. 'Come on Will, you need to help me out here.'

'Why?' Grumbled Sherlock, 'and who's this Will you keep mentioning...and why are there two of you Molly, honestly, ones bad enough without having to ignore two of you.'

'Well that's bloody charming, isn't it! Sorry I'm being such an inconvenience to you, not like I haven't just landed a job with the firm you're investigating or anything' she hissed to him making sure there was no one around to overhear.

Sherlock frowned again, stopping in the middle of the path to stare at her. He was swaying slightly but looked a bit less glazed. 'What's wrong now, I wasn't insulting you...was I? John...John would know. He always keeps me straight.'

He looked sad all of a sudden and Molly felt guilty again for berating him. 'It's OK,' she smiled, tugging on his arm. 'Come on, we're almost home.'

Sherlock didn't move however. She turned to see what the problem was only to find him staring down at her, closer than she expected. Her breath caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. She wasn't sure he'd ever looked at her quite like that before, like a man looks at a woman.

Before she could say anything his lips had descended on hers. It wasn't the best kiss of her life, it was quite sloppy and tasted of whisky which wasn't her favourite drink but at that moment she didn't care. She didn't even wonder why he was kissing her, just enjoyed that he was. She staggered under his weight and for a moment she thought they would both fall but Sherlock twisted her to the left so her back hit the side wall of the house they'd been walking past.

Molly felt like she was fifteen again, outside and pressed up against a wall where anyone could see them but she couldn't muster up a thought let alone think about moving. The kiss was improving, Sherlock's technique getting better as he deepened the kiss. She moaned as she felt his hand sliding under her top touching her skin.

Suddenly he pulled away groaning before dropping to his knees. 'Oh God Molly, I feel awful!' he exclaimed before promptly throwing up at her feet.

**Extra points to anyone who got the Talisker Whisky 'Cabin Pressure' reference (a radio show with Benedict Cumberbatch playing Captain Martin Crieff for those who don't know).**


	6. Chapter 6

**Usual disclaimers apply, I still don't own anything.**

**A huge thank you to everyone who has either reviewed, favourited or followed.**

**And so we move on to the morning after...**

**Chapter 6**

Sherlock woke the next morning with a blinding headache. For a moment he had no idea where he was or how he had got there but gradually the where became obvious even if the how seemed a bit fuzzier.

He was in the bedroom of the cottage and he was currently wrapped around a small, sleeping pathologist. He closed his eyes and groaned quietly to himself. What on earth had happened last night?

It started to come back in short bursts, the home brew, the wine, the meal. He was sure the food must have been delicious but he had no clear memory of what exactly he had eaten. He hoped, beyond hope that he hadn't blown their cover but he'd have to check with Molly.

Oh God, Molly! What had he...they done? He had a sudden vision of himself pressed up against Molly kissing her in a way he hadn't kissed anyone in a long time...he strained to remember more but for once his brain was letting him down.

_Come on Sherlock, deduce. _He thought to himself. Right we're in bed, but we're clothed..._and dear God my head hurts..._Molly was in nightwear but on further inspection he was still in his jeans and shirt though he'd lost his belt and shoes. So kissing, sleeping, but it appeared nothing more. He sighed with relief. Whilst he'd recently entertained ideas of Molly being something 'more' he was glad nothing had seemingly happened when he was drunk.

He shifted slowly away, untangling himself reluctantly but he desperately needed something for his head and he could taste vomit in his mouth. He closed his eyes in sudden embarrassment as he remembered throwing up on the pavement outside. As he turned he saw that Molly, kind as ever, had thoughtfully placed a large glass of water and a couple of paracetamol on his bedside cabinet.

He took them and lay back again arm thrown across his eyes waiting for the medication to kick in.

A few minutes later he felt Molly shift and he lifted his arm to look down at her. She was looking back at him shyly but with a growing smirk on her face. By the time she asked him how he was she was almost giggling, biting her lip to stop herself.

'As I'm sure even you can deduce, Molly, I am not feeling at my best. What happened last night, please tell me I didn't blow our cover?'

Molly blushed at her own recollections but she assured him he hadn't said anything bad.

'Good, I'll take a shower then if you don't mind.'

He knew he ought to apologise for the kiss, to try to explain it somehow but he couldn't. His mantra from the previous day came to the forefront of his mind and he took it as the easy option, ignore, ignore, ignore. Maybe if he didn't say anything Molly wouldn't either.

MHMHMHMHMH

Molly sighed as Sherlock left the room. She wasn't sure from that if he even remembered the kiss let alone the fact that he'd persuaded her to share the bed with him.

She recalled how she finally managed to get him back to the cottage and clean him up as much as she could. His mood seemed to have turned fairly melancholic by the time she'd got him to the bedroom. She'd pulled off his shoes and removed his belt to try to make him more comfy. She contemplated removing his jeans but blushed at the thought of it and just knew she wouldn't be able to face Sherlock in the morning if she went that far.

She was already feeling guilty because of the kiss. Yes, Sherlock had initiated it but he was so drunk he probably didn't even realise what he had done. Moly had though, she'd known he was drunk, known she should have stopped it immediately but she'd done nothing. Her will power seemed to have vanished the moment his lips had touched hers.

This case was killing her, all be it in a good way, touching Sherlock, kissing him. Her hormones and emotions felt like they were all over the place and now sleeping in the same bed with him.

Now THAT she really hadn't intended to do. She had fully intended to go and sleep on the settee downstairs. She'd got ready for bed and taken a pillow and a blanket downstairs. It was as she was getting herself a glass of water that she thought of Sherlock and how rough he was going to feel in the morning. So she'd poured him a large glass of water and grabbed a couple of painkillers and taken them up to put on his bedside cabinet.

She was just about to leave when he'd grabbed her wrist. 'Don't leave me, you won't ever leave me, will you, Molly?'

'Its OK Sherlock, I'm going to be just downstairs, give me a shout if you need anything.' She whispered back, stroking an errant curl away from his forehead (she'd always wanted to do that).

'No!' His grip tightened, 'stay with me, tonight, I need you near me.'

With that he pulled her over him, rolling onto his side he pulled her against him so his chest was pressed against her back, his breath tickling her ear. He sighed in contentment and Molly had to admit it was really comfortable. The bed was certainly big enough for both of them, it was warm and she was tired, Sherlock was already asleep again so she didn't see the harm in staying.

But that was last night, in the cold light of day and with Sherlock awake and almost back to his normal self Molly was feeling a bit more unsure.

She decided she would mention it if he did

He didn't!

SHSHSHSHSHSH

It was later that day, when they got together over dinner, that Molly reminded Sherlock that she had been offered a few hours work at Gordon's business. He was still feeling delicate after the previous night and was furious with himself that he'd got so drunk and missed the opportunity to get more information from Gordon so this was a real silver lining. He couldn't help being concerned though.

'Do you know what your doing though Molly? I'll need to give you a list of the clients that we know were linked with Moriarty's network. Maybe you can smuggle out some files or photocopy them. Do you think you can manage that?'

Molly looked at him scathingly. 'I'm not an idiot Sherlock, I'm sure I'll manage.'

'Oh don't be like that, John was always like that. It's not just you, most people are idiots.' He waved his hand dismissively. 'I'll get that list for you and I'll highlight the ones I'm particularly interested in. This is brilliant news Molly.'

He went off happily into his study. Molly rolled her eyes and cleared up the dinner things. She'd normally force Sherlock into doing the washing up but he seemed genuinely excited at this small breakthrough so she let him off for once.

She hadn't really expected to see him again that evening so she was surprised to hear him rattling around in the bathroom when she was reading in bed about eleven o'clock. She was even more surprised when he entered the bedroom and proceeded to climb into bed with her.

'Erm Sherlock, what exactly are you doing?'

He looked at her his forehead creasing, eyes narrowing. 'Erm, Molly,' he mimicked back. 'Getting into bed, what does it look like? I'm tired, we've already slept in the same bed once and the couch downstairs is too small for me.'

'Oh, OK,' replied Molly putting her book down and turning out the light. She shifted over on to her side of the bed as much as she could but was shocked when Sherlock pulled her back towards him, spooning her again just as he had the night before.

He sighed, 'don't overthink this Molly, just go to sleep.' And so she did snuggling down and enjoying the feel of Sherlock wrapped around her. She felt safe with him, confused as all hell, but safe.

**Hope you're all still enjoying this as much as I'm enjoying writing it.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Wow, can't believe I'm on chapter 7 of this story and there is still some way to go, though things will hot up soon. Once again, thank you for all the reviews, I'm glad you're all enjoying it.**

**As ever I own nothing but my own characters. **

Sherlock woke the next morning entangled in Molly again having had one of the best night sleep in his life.

Normally he struggled to sleep, his mind constantly in over drive, ideas buzzing and spinning around until he'd get up in frustration looking for something to occupy himself with. Last night was different though. He knew he was getting into dangerous territory by being so close physically with Molly but he was an addict and he was becoming addicted to her.

The previous day as he had recovered from his hangover he had remembered her body against his as he'd woken up, the smell of her, her hair tickling his face and chest. He could also remember kissing her the night before though he wished he could forget throwing up at her feet. It was a rare thing for Sherlock Holmes to be embarrassed but he was embarrassed about that.

As day rolled into evening he'd been kept occupied by going through the list of clients that Mycroft had supplied him with. He'd just finished when he heard Molly getting ready for bed, the click of the light switch, the creak of the bed frame as she climbed in. He closed his eyes for a moment and before he could question himself he was heading for the stairs.

He could almost hear Mycroft scoffing at his weakness and he knew he ought to be backing away from the situation not getting closer to it but when had he ever backed away from danger or addiction. If it got too bad he'd control it then but right at that moment he wanted to indulge.

MHMHMHMHMHMH

The next few days passed fairly quietly, settling into the new routine where Sherlock would join Molly each evening but more often than not be up and out of the bed before she'd even awoken.

Molly had spoken to Gordon and was going in for her first day in the next week. She was going to do about 10 hours a week for him and see how it went. It was quite an informal set up and she was looking forward to it. She hadn't lied at the meal, she'd enjoyed the break from work but was ready to do something to fill her time. She wondered how Mike Stamford was getting on at the morgue and decided she should spend some of her spare time reading some of her peer reviews to keep her knowledge up.

She had given up trying to figure Sherlock out. He was just as snappy and inconsistent with her during the day but each night would hold her close to him whilst they were sleeping. She was starting to wonder if she wasn't just a giant teddy bear or security blanket to him. Either way she wasn't about to stop it. She was enjoying the feeling of closeness as much as he apparently was.

She'd woken before him just once and had spent five minutes watching him sleep. She was so close she could see the faint freckles on his skin, the way his eyelashes curved and those cheekbones...she was so tempted to brush her fingers along them but didn't dare for fear of waking him. He'd woken soon after, she could see the cloud of sleep in his eyes starting to clear as he came too. He looked younger than he did when he was fully awake and she wondered what had made the young boy into such a complicated, emotionless adult.

No, that was wrong. He might think and strive to be emotionless but he wasn't. He'd proved that by jumping off the side of St Bart's to save John, Greg and Mrs Hudson. She just didn't understand the appeal of denying your emotions, she never would. She'd always worn hers on her sleeve whether that was to her detriment or not.

She was ruminating all this over a cup of tea when she heard Sherlock gleefully shouting in his study 'yes, finally... Molly...' He rushed out of the room carrying with him a black and white print out of a photo.

'Ah, there you are, quick you need to get ready. I'm taking you for lunch and a spot of surveillance in town. I'd say dress conservatively, so you don't stand out, but you do that anyway. Come on.'

With that he turned and sped up the stairs to get changed himself.

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. 'Typical, just bloody typical, that man wouldn't be able to compliment me if his life depended on it.'

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

An hour later they were sat having lunch in a quiet but up market hotel in the centre of the nearby town. It made a nice change for Molly, getting out of the village and she was enjoying the food which was simple but delicious.

Sherlock had filled her in on the details on the drive over. She hadn't seen him this excited in a long while, she could see how much he was missing the excitement of a proper case, the chance to be doing something more than paperwork and internet searches.

Mycroft had sent him the lead. They thought this guy, the one in the black and white photo, was probably the Moriarty end of the link with Gordon's firm. They didn't have a name yet but both Sherlock and Mycroft thought he was quite high up in the web, possibly even one of Moriary's lieutenants. They needed to know who he was meeting and, if possible, why.

At the moment he was sat a few tables away from them, alone and reading the paper whilst eating some sandwiches. He was about six feet tall, maybe early forties and good looking in an unassuming sort if way. To Molly he just looked like another business man not a master criminal.

Sherlock's eyes had raked over him and she knew he had probably already deduced everything from his favourite colour to his birth sign but she hadn't asked. They were maintaining the pretence of the relationship, laughing together, touching hands. Sherlock had even leaned over twice to kiss her lightly on the lips though his eyes hadn't been on her.

After about an hour the guy received a text message and got up leaving his paper on the seat and walking out of the hotel.

Sherlock and Molly quickly paid up before following him outside. He was about a hundred feet away on the right walking away from the town centre. Sherlock took hold of Molly's hand and they strolled slowly in the same direction, Sherlock had a map of the town centre and was discussing points of interest with Molly as though they were tourists.

They were careful not to fall too far behind or catch up too fast. Molly found it all very amusing and when Sherlock asked why she was grinning so much she told him she felt like she'd fallen into some clichéd TV detective show. Sherlock snorted in disgust, 'this is real life Molly and in real life people rarely notice they're being followed. Everyone's normally too self-centred. We just have to be careful and not to look too obvious.'

A few minutes later the guy stopped to check his phone. They were too close to keep going but there were no shop windows or points of interest for them to reasonably stop and look at.

'Shit.' Sherlock murmured before turning to Molly quickly and pulling her towards him. Molly had barely a moment before she realised what was about to happen. The kiss was soft and tentative at first but it was such a shock to Molly that she moaned before she could stop herself. Her reaction seemed to trigger something in Sherlock because she felt him pull her tighter against him, the kiss growing in intensity. Molly's hands travelled up his back til one was raking through his hair. She'd always wanted to run her hands through his hair and was only sorry that he'd cut off most of his trademark curls in order to look slightly different.

Just as she'd relaxed into the kiss she found herself kissing thin air. She opened her eyes in surprise only to find that Sherlock had made his way to the end of the street. He was peering round the corner and was holding his hand up behind himself to stop Molly going past.

Molly couldn't believe he'd done this...again! Kissed her and then nothing. She supposed she should be grateful that she hadn't made him throw up this time but she was furious. She just wasn't sure who she was mad at the most, herself or Sherlock. Where did he get off treating her like this? Did he really have no clue how it was toying with her emotions and making her feel.

By now she was stood just behind Sherlock. She realised now wasn't the time to bring this up so she tried to concentrate on the case instead. She felt Sherlock recoil a bit. 'What,' she whispered, 'what's happening, I can't see anything?'

Sherlock sounded confused, 'I don't understand...it's Gordon. Why is it Gordon?'

**Whether you like it or you don't please review and tell me why. Thank youuuuuuuu.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**I'm trying to post regularly now at least twice a week, sometimes three. The story will also change to an M rating next time round.**

**Glad you're all still enjoying it. Thank you so much for the positive reviews.**

**Again I still own nothing. Enjoy!**

They stood at the corner another five minutes before Sherlock noticed that they were getting odd looks from other passers by.

He led them back the way they had come muttering under his breath.

'What did you see? What was happening? Is Gordon the link?' Queried Molly curiously.

Sherlock looked at Molly as though he'd forgotten she was even with him, 'what? No! Don't be obtuse. If he was involved I would have picked that up by now. No, he was meeting with this guy for some other reason I'm sure. They were fighting about something, something personal rather than work related but I was too far away to hear any details. Come on lets go back home, I need to talk to Mycroft, see what else he's found out.'

'Don't we need to keep trailing this guy, see where else he goes?'

'No, it's fine, Mycroft's tail can do the rest, I just wanted to see him for myself. Mycroft's team are good at the tailing but useless at the deducing.' He nodded his head in the direction of a young woman with pink hair lounging on the other side of the street, headphones in and seemingly waiting for her mates or boyfriend. She nodded back.

'What, you mean she's been here the whole time, following us following him?' Said Molly.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, 'I did warn you that most people are too self absorbed to spot someone following them.'

'Self absorbed, you're implying that I'm self absorbed. You're kidding aren't you...and where do you get off kissing me like that.'

'We are married Molly! Anyway I thought you wanted me to kiss you, didn't you enjoy it.'

'I..yes..I mean no...oh God Sherlock you're infuriating.'

'Hmmm so John often told me.' Sherlock was only half listening to her instead he was tapping away furiously on his mobile, no doubt some message to his brother.

'What you mean you kissed him as a diversion tactic as well?' Giggled Molly the anger starting to ebb away somewhat. She had to admit he was right she had enjoyed the kiss. The problem was she was quickly getting used to it and it only made her want more.

Sherlock looked up briefly from his phone, 'I can guarantee I'd much rather kiss you than John any day,' he smirked.

MHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly was quite disappointed that Sherlock didn't look like he was going to join her in bed that night. She could hear him downstairs on the phone to Mycroft. From the tone of his voice they were having one of their rows, she'd never known a pair of brothers who could argue so much. They obviously cared about each other very much but neither would admit it.

Instead of reading Molly decided to have an early night. She was finding living with Sherlock and pretending to be married was a roller coaster of emotions. She definitely felt closer to him, they were obviously friends now which was something she had never been able to say with any certainty prior to the fall. But were they or would they ever be anything more. Molly was still confused about the kiss when Sherlock was drunk. Granted the one today had been much more enjoyable and would no doubt keep her fantasies aglow for a long time to come but she could explain it away easily. They had been on a case and they had needed to deflect attention from themselves.

But the night he was drunk, why had he kissed her? Nothing had been said and Molly still wasn't even sure he could remember it but there was no logical reason as to why he had done it. Molly was worried that this was only going to feed her hopes which had been dashed so many times before. She needed to concentrate on what she knew. _Think like Sherlock, Molly, now what are the facts. One, we are friends. Two, he has admitted that he needs me and not just for the case. Three, we have kissed properly twice and slept in the same bed four times. Four, I am rubbish at deductions and have no idea if any of this means anything or if it means nothing at all._ Molly groaned in frustration, which was another thing. She really was starting to feel frustrated. Her hormones had been in overdrive the last few days and she'd had no chance of release and could foresee no chance of release. It was with these thoughts in mind that Molly fell to sleep.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was past two before Sherlock decided to make his way up to bed. He'd argued for ages with Mycroft about the direction of each of their leads. It was clear that he would soon need to get more involved with some of the overseas work and if anything Mycroft couldn't understand why Sherlock was putting so much effort into this lead when it was fairly insignificant.

Sherlock couldn't explain it fully to himself let alone Mycroft. He felt as though leaving Molly and leaving the country would be the real death, not the one he'd faked so many weeks ago. He knew he'd have to leave eventually but he just wanted a few more days here with Molly. He knew it was wrong and that he was setting them both up for disappointment but she was his fix and he wasn't ready to go cold turkey.

Molly was fast asleep as he crawled into bed. He wasn't sure she even realised he was there. He lay in the dark listening to her breathing and thought through some of the key points in the case.

He was starting to doze off when Molly's breathing started to alter. She had started to breath faster and was twitching in her sleep. He was just about to wake her from what was obviously a nightmare when in a breathy voice she moaned his name. 'Oh' was all Sherlock could think.

**Oh indeed, what will Sherlock do! Come back soon to find out :).**


	9. Chapter 9

**A particular shout out to my regular reviewers - Bucky5, LadydeBalliol, The-Scorpio-Holmes-Sister-221B, Rocking the Redhead, Lanceletta, Icecat62, SuperheroLover22, InMollysWildestDreams, QuirkyMolly and The Headphone Girl. Thank you for your comments, they keep me motivated.**

**If I've missed anyone out I apologise. **

**Smut levels have now been raised to M but our pair's tale has a way to go before they have their happy ending.**

**Disclaimer - I owe it all to ACD, Moffat and Gatiss.**

**Chapter 9**

Sherlock lay still in the bed, he had gone from dozing to hyper alert within seconds. He could hear every breath Molly took, sense every movement. She was obviously having some kind of erotic dream and from her calling out his name it was just as obvious that he was in it somehow. The question was, what should he do now?

His head was telling him to run, to ignore, to hide, but his body was reacting separately. He could feel himself growing hard, lust coiling in his stomach. He wanted her. He might not have been certain about that before but he was absolutely certain now. He wanted Molly Hooper, wanted her naked and writhing under him calling out HIS name and no one else's. It felt almost primal. But still he hesitated to act. He closed his eyes, fingers gripping the sheets, mind battling with body.

In the end his mind won out, he should wake Molly then leave, spend the night downstairs. He gently reached out for her, finding her shoulder and shaking her whilst whispering her name.

She turned to him arms wrapping round his neck pulling herself up against him, 'oh God Sherlock.' She moaned again before kissing him hard on the lips.

For the first few seconds he was just shocked at the turn of events. He couldn't actually say whether she was awake or not but he reacted instinctively his hand weaving into her hair tilting her face so he could deepen and dominate the kiss. She ground herself against him moaning and panting with desperate desire.

He was fast losing himself in the feel of her. Her leg hitched up around his waist, her centre pushing against him, her kiss forcing logical thought from his mind. He could feel her small, but perfect, breasts crushed against his chest and he wanted to kiss them, to feel her nipple hard in his mouth. He broke off from the kiss and she latched herself to his neck instead biting and licking it in turn.

He tried to catch his breath to remember what his original intentions were but his body seemed to be reacting independently from his mind. One hand was gripping her bum helping her gain friction against him, his other hand moving her tank top aside so he could suck and nip at her breast. As his tongue circled her nipple he felt her buck and climax against him. She called his name again and again and it was the best sound in the world.

As she came down from her high his mind seemed to gain control again and he realised how close he had come to crossing that final line. He closed his eyes and grimaced, he needed to get out of there before his body betrayed him further.

He felt Molly's hand move down towards his manhood and he let go of her as though she were burning him. 'I..err..no, it's OK...I'm fine. I'll just...err'. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, lower than normal, breathy and nervous. He slid backwards almost falling out of the bed before exiting the bedroom and making his way to the bathroom. He could hear Molly calling his name, her voice sounding confused and worried but he just needed to get out of there, he needed to calm his body down and get back in control. This was not him, not who he thought he was.

Once he got to the bathroom he set the shower to cold but when he climbed in he quickly realised he'd need a bucket of ice water thrown over him to calm this raging hard on, cold water was not going to cut it. He sighed, his hand fisting and hitting the tiled wall before giving in to the inevitable and raising the temperature of the water.

He braced one hand on the wall his other reaching down and gripping himself. He was so turned on and had denied himself for so long that he knew it wouldn't take long. He tentatively pumped his fist, once, twice. He groaned and closed his eyes, images of Molly coming unbidden to his mind. Molly smiling at him in the morgue wearing a white lab coat and not much else, Molly leaving the bathroom, wet and wrapped in towel shyly rushing past him, Molly wrapped around him orgasming and crying out his name.

He came hard, feeling his lust streaming out of him, his hips jerking back and forth. He put his head against his hand on the wall and watched the evidence of his humanity washing away down the drain.

As he recovered there was only one thought spinning around his mind. What was he going to do now?

**A short chapter this time round but hopefully a sweet one ;). Let me know what YOU think.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Thank you all for your amazing feedback re the last chapter. I'm glad you enjoyed it. Now the fall out...**

Molly. Was. Mortified.

She had hardly slept all night since 'that incident'. She had spent the whole night tossing and turning, stewing, going over and over what had happened and wondering how exactly they had ended up in such an intimate situation.

She had only vague memories of how it had come about. She had thought it was a dream, a great dream but definitely a dream. She had been at work, in the morgue, when Sherlock had come in all coat billowing and curls ruffled. He had stalked her, his blue, green eyes blazing, backing her up against the mortuary drawers.

He hadn't said a word just taken both her hands, in one of his, pinning them above her head before reaching down and sliding his hand up her bare leg rucking her skirt and lab coat up until his hand was on her hip. He'd used his knee to part her legs all the while staring into her eyes daring her to stop him. She had felt more aroused than she had thought was possible.

She was moaning his name begging him to touch her, to fuck her but he was taking his time, controlling the situation. Always with the control, driving her mad.

He bent his head, his cupid bow lips getting closer to hers, his hand sliding its way across from her hip, along the edge of her pants and then down towards her hot, needy centre. Just as he'd been in the verge of touching her and kissing her, he'd whispered her name, his hand on her shoulder. She'd kissed him, grinding herself on him, happy to find him hard and ready for her.

He'd kissed her back, his tongue pushing into her mouth, his hands on her skin. He tasted amazing and she was greedy for more. She knew she was going to come, she could feel it rising within her, she just needed more friction and pressure. He'd pulled her harder against himself, his mouth moving to her breast, his warm tongue sliding around her nipple and just like that she came, riding him, pushing herself against him.

It was only as she came down from the high and started to reach for him to return the favour and help relieve his discomfort that it had really hit her that this was actually real...had become real somehow... Before she could make any sense of it Sherlock was stopping her hand, mumbling something before backing rapidly off the bed and more or less running to the bathroom.

She called his name but there was no reply. All she could hear was the shower. _Oh god what have I done. _She sat dumbfounded in the bed. What had just happened? She'd obviously assaulted him in his sleep...she was horrified. What must he think of her? She knew how private he was, knew how much he liked his own space, not liking people touching him. He had trusted her, slept in the same bed as her and look how she had repaid that trust. He must feel so violated.

A sob caught in her throat. There was no way to put this right. There was no other option she had to leave. As soon as it got light she would pack her things and head back to London. He wouldn't want her anywhere near him after this and to be honest she wasn't sure she could ever face him again. She was beyond embarrassed and guilty.

She was still sat in the dark, face in hands, when she heard the shower switch off and Sherlock making his way down to his study shortly after. Part of her wondered whether she should go after him, try to apologise for...for... no, she couldn't face him, she just couldn't.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was about 6.30am when Sherlock was disturbed from his mind palace. He'd been trying to work out why it would have been Gordon meeting Moriarty's link. He'd gone back over all the information that he knew about Gordon and he couldn't see why it was him. He hadn't missed anything as far as he could see, everything he knew, had seen and deduced about Gordon pointed to him having no involvement in what was going on, so why was it him. It was infuriating!

He'd also spent some time in Molly's room which was, unsurprisingly, much more full than in previous months. He'd acknowledged to himself that Molly was something more...but knowing that and deciding to do anything about it were two different things. Maybe if they weren't here, maybe if he wasn't 'dead' he could consider pursuing it. Every time he thought about it he went round in circles, he wanted Molly, he cared for Molly but he was married to his work, nothing should distract him from his work. But that was all she was at the moment...a distraction.

He cracked an eye open as he heard Molly moving around upstairs. It wasn't like her to be up this early, she normally lay in til at least 7.45. He could hear drawers being opened, heard her walking back and forth between the bedroom and the bathroom. What was she up to?

Then it hit him, she was packing. She was packing and planning to leave. He couldn't let her leave, he needed her... the case, she was needed for the case.

He quickly made his way up stairs finding her dressed already in jeans and one of her hideous jumpers, leaning over her suitcase packing away her make up and toiletries.

'Molly, what on earth are you thinking, you can't leave?'

She jumped when he spoke, spinning around still holding her hairbrush and shampoo. He had never seen her blush so quickly and so much, what was the matter with her?

'Oh..um..Sherlock, I just...I...I need to leave. I'm sure after last night you want me to go as well, you don't need to deny it. Just leave me in peace and let me go.'

She managed to say all of this without making eye contact with him once. It was starting to dawn on him that she might be embarrassed about last night

'Last night was just hormones, forget it. Now unpack your things, we need to go through what papers I need you to look for in Gordon's office.'

Molly finally looked at him in shock. 'How can you be so calm, I practically assaulted you. Sherlock, I am so, so sorry. How can you ever forgive me?' She sat down on the bed covering her face with her hands biting her lip so she wouldn't cry in front of him.

At this Sherlock let out a bark of a laugh, 'Molly, look at you, you weigh 131 pounds, there's no way you could have assaulted me if I wasn't willing. Now unpack and meet me downstairs in the study. Oh and coffee would be nice,' he said as he left the room.

For the second time in about seven hours Molly wasn't quite sure what had just happened. It appeared that Sherlock had been a willing participant in what had occurred and didn't seem bothered by it at all. Did this mean...what did it mean...could he possibly like her? Molly definitely needed that coffee too!

**Hope that was an OK reaction for both of the.m I just see Sherlock as not really understanding why it's such a big deal for Molly. As ever, let me know what you think.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Just a short chapter this time. I felt it was about time to explore Molly's thoughts on everything that had happened. **

**Honestly, I found it quite a difficult chapter to write, so I hope Molly's 'voice' sounds real. Let me know.**

Molly was still confused. She'd spent some time with Sherlock first thing going through what he wanted her to keep an eye out for when she started work in a couple of days. He was irritated that he couldn't do this himself and seemed sure she wouldn't be capable of spotting anything useful.

He hadn't said anything further about the night before and Molly was still too confused and embarrassed to ask.

In the end she had packed herself some sandwiches and taken herself off for a walk in the surrounding countryside.

It felt good to be outdoors, she rarely got a chance, living and working in London, to spend a long time in nature. She had grown up in the countryside and whilst she wouldn't swap her job and her life it was good to remind herself that there was a big, green world outside the capital.

She sat on her jacket as she ate the small lunch letting her mind wander over the last few days trying to make sense of everything that had happened. She laughed to herself, she seemed to spend her whole life trying to make sense of Sherlock Holmes but it never seemed to get any easier.

She had so many thoughts and feelings whirling around in her head that she was starting to consider asking him to teach her how to build a mind palace so she could organise them.

_How would Sherlock deduce this?_ She thought... _No clue! _She smiled to herself.

If this were any other guy and she had kissed them and kissed them more than once. Slept in the same bed with them, more than once and, ahem, got off on them, with them 'willingly participating' _was that different from him wanting to participate _she would have said that they liked her and she was very much in a relationship. However, this was most definitely not any other guy. This was the most confusing, exasperating but gorgeously addictive guy she had ever known.

As she sat there musing it started to occur to her that underneath all his coldness and his professions of being a high functioning sociopath he was just a guy, maybe she needed to try to treat him like one.

She laughed at the though of seducing Sherlock Holmes, she wasn't going to go that far. For starters she had never been good at seduction and for another thing he was the worlds only Consulting Detective, he'd see through her in a heart beat. She needed to test the water somehow, see how he reacted, confirm to herself that she wasn't imagining things. She smiled to herself, for the first time in a long, long while she was starting to feel hopeful about her love for Sherlock. It was starting to seem possible that it could actually lead to something. She hugged herself at the thought, letting herself remember more about the night before.

When she'd thought about it previously she'd concentrated only on the aftermath, Sherlock pushing her hand away, leaving the room, her horror as she'd woken up properly. This time she remembered the fact that he was hard when she'd pushed herself against him. That he, not her, had deepened the kiss pulling her against himself. She remembered the feeling of his lips on her breast, his tongue circling her nipple. Oh yes, she'd got it all wrong, this was a guy reacting positively to her.

Maybe, just maybe it was nerves that had made him run. She was going to need to be careful and take her time but she was determined to push this relationship further.

She walked back towards the village with a spring in her step enjoying the late afternoon rays. Oh she was definitely starting to enjoy married life.


	12. Chapter 12

**Here we go again, normal disclaimer applies. **

**Once again thank you for your reviews, follows and favourites.**

**Chapter 12**

It had been two days since Molly had cleared her head on her walk. Things with Sherlock had been comfortable but quiet with them both settling back into their previous routine. Sherlock was once again spending a lot of time in his study and on the phone with Mycroft. He hadn't said much about what they were doing but she knew there were multiple leads being followed up as well as this one.

They had slept in the same bed together the last two nights, always falling asleep apart now but waking up wrapped round each other. Sherlock would normally just say 'morning Molly' before disentangling himself and using the bathroom whilst she would go downstairs and make coffees.

Molly felt happier than she had in a long while. She was seeing a future for herself and Sherlock that she'd never imagined before and it bathed her in a warm glow even though a nagging voice at the back of her mind was screaming a warning that she was living life in a rose tinted bubble. After all Sherlock was still 'dead' and at some point they would have to leave this little cottage and return back to London, the idyll could not continue indefinitely. She chose however to ignore it.

Instead she was up early today and getting ready for her first morning working in Gordon's office.

Sherlock was driving her mad pointing out the obvious and reminding her what he needed her to find. He even tried to comment on her outfit but she just put her hand on his mouth saying 'stop right there!'

In the end she enjoyed herself at work. It was good to be out and doing something constructive. It made her miss her job at Bart's more than ever and she wondered when she would be able to return.

She had been quite successful in her 'mission' and had managed to find two of the files, that Sherlock had asked her to look for, whilst Becky the legal secretary had been at lunch. They were currently hidden in the over large bag she had brought with her and she hoped it would be as easy to put them back. She tried not to think about them being there as she got a cold trickle of anxiety running down her spine at the thought of being caught with them. She'd never make a true criminal.

There was just under half an hour to go when her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

**Hey darling, hope your first day is going well. Is Gordon in? Wx**

She figured he wasn't really interested in her day and was just being overly cautious so she just replied back **Yes**.

**Is he free? **Again she replied **Yes** as Gordon was between clients.

Twenty minutes later Sherlock strolled into the office carrying a picnic hamper and blanket.

He came over, kissing Molly on the cheek, 'hey Molls, hope you don't mind me dropping in. I thought we could celebrate your first day at work with a picnic down by the river. How's it gone?'

She gave an appropriate response before introducing her 'husband' to Becky who managed to get Molly's back up by looking him up and down appreciatively as she cooed over how thoughtful he was bringing a picnic and how she wished her own boyfriend would do something so nice.

It was at that point that Gordon exited his office and smiled warmly as he saw Sherlock.

'Will, my lad, I thought I heard your voice. Where have you been hiding? I haven't seen you since you came for that meal, must be over a week ago now.'

'Hi, yes, sorry I've been caught up with my writing, just got into a groove, you know. Did Molly mention though that we saw you last Sunday in town? We were going to say hello but you were with some chap and it didn't look like you would like to be interrupted...'

Sherlock let the sentence trail away, trusting in Gordon's natural politeness to fill the gap. 'On Sunday, right, yes, err just some friend of my son Rob. I was...err ticking him off for not paying Rob back some money he owes him. Anyhow we must get together for drinks again soon'. Molly saw Sherlock wince slightly but carry on smiling. 'I'll get Helen to fix up a date with Molly here eh? Enjoy your picnic and thanks again, Molly, for agreeing to help out. I know Helen's appreciating having some time off.' He smiled and retreated back into his office.

'Come on then darling, have you got everything?' Sherlock grinned again, twining his fingers with hers before leading her out of the office into the sunshine.

They strolled leisurely down the small high street with Sherlock quietly quizzing her about whether she'd found anything. His eyes lit up when she mentioned the two files. At the end of the road they suddenly pulled apart from each other with Molly turning right towards the river and Sherlock left towards the cottage.

Molly turned to him, 'where are you going?'

Sherlock looked around to make sure no one was listening, 'back to the cottage, where did you think? I want to look at those files.'

'Oh no, I don't think so. You promised me a picnic, so that's what I want.' She crossed her arms across her chest, unconsciously pushing her breasts up, staring him down.

Sherlock looked at her surprised. It wasn't often that she put her foot down but he had to admit it was quite sexy when she did. He looked at her staring defiantly up at him, her small but perfect breasts pushing against the fabric of her silky blouse, was she actually pouting at him. He found himself giving in, though not very graciously 'oh for goodness sake, come on then,' he grumbled. He grabbed her hand again towing her along behind him as he stalked down towards the river. In doing so he completely missed Molly's 'I won' smile.

**Ooh so Molly's managed to get her own way for once! Let me know what you think.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Am laughing as I write this, cannot believe I am up to Chapter 13 with more to go. I have never written anything this long in my life outside of boring reports for work. Writing Sherlock fanfiction has opened up a whole new world and one I am very much enjoying. Hope you are too.**

**As ever thank you for your reviews and follows and favourites. There are now over 100 of you following this story...hello (wave).**

**Normal disclaimers...enjoy the picnic.**

**Chapter 13**

They laid the blanket out on the side of the river in a quiet spot away from the kids playing happily but noisily in the small play park. Molly had already said hello and exchanged words with various women as they made their way there and Sherlock was amazed with how sociable she was when she wasn't stuck in the morgue.

Molly settled herself on the blanket and opened the basket in anticipation.

'Ah, yes, you might be a little disappointed there,' said Sherlock wryly.

It was certainly the strangest picnic Molly had ever seen. There was a jar of pickles another of chocolate spread, some crisps, a punnet of strawberries and a couple of bottles of beer. She looked at Sherlock puzzled.

'Well I wasn't actually planning on us having a picnic. I just grabbed some bits from the kitchen to make the hamper look the right weight. With that he plucked a packet of crisps out and leaned back on one elbow as he ate them.

'I don't suppose you have a bottle opener at least?' Molly asked hopefully.

'As a matter of fact I CAN help you with that,' he smirked as he dug a Swiss Army knife out of his back pocket. 'My motto is Be Prepared.'

'I never imagined you as a Boy Scout, bet you looked ever so cute in your uniform.' Molly shocked herself, was she flirting with Sherlock Holmes. She decided she most definitely was and she liked it.

He laughed, 'you will never know, I made sure to destroy all the photos.'

She opened up the bottles, passing him one and eyed the strange food again. One thought came to her and she blushed as she wondered whether she were brave enough. In the end she decided she was, after all they were supposed to be acting as though they were married and very much in love.

Sherlock had spotted Molly's blush and knew she was up to something but he wasn't quite sure what until she removed the strawberries and the chocolate from the basket. Hmm he wasn't quite sure where she was going with this but he felt he ought to be worried. A quick glance around told him there were three people (two mums in the play park and one dog walker) in the vicinity who knew Molly and therefore knew their cover story. Whatever she was thinking of he would have to play along nicely.

By this time Molly had opened the strawberries and started to remove the stalks and leaves using the pen knife again. Sherlock wasn't sure he should mention what that knife had been used for in the past, it hadn't been that hygienic but it had at least been washed since. He was curious though to see what she would do.

She opened up the chocolate spread and dipped the first strawberry into it. She lifted it out and tipped her head back eating the whole thing in one and sighing in delight at the taste.

Sherlock's mouth felt a bit dry. He gulped and took a swig of his beer trying to distract himself from what she was up to.

She repeated the dipping in chocolate spread with the second strawberry but this time she leant towards him offering him the morsel. He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her before leaning forward and opening his mouth. Just as he made to bite at the strawberry she pulled it away leaving him eating fresh air. She then quickly dabbed the chocolate strawberry on his nose giggling as she did.

Before he could wipe the offending smear of chocolate away she leant forward again kissing his nose and removing the chocolate. As Sherlock's mouth fell open in shock she dropped in the strawberry leaving him munching it and considering how to retaliate. Maybe he wouldn't play nicely after all!

This time HE picked up the strawberry and dipped it in the spread. He moved towards Molly grinning as he did, she put her hands up defensively, looking a bit worried for the first time, 'no, what are you going to...I'm sorry...' Before she could finish he had smeared chocolate down her cheek.

She fell onto her back as he leaned over her and slowly, oh so slowly, he licked the delicious chocolate off her face. He was fascinated with how good it/she tasted. Thankfully she wore minimal make up so it was all Molly and chocolate.

He decided to push the envelope further, not even sure in his own mind whether he was playing Will or himself. He put the strawberry between his own lips and then bent to kiss Molly. He watched as her pupils dilated, her could see her pulse hammering in her throat and as their lips touched he felt the blood in his body moving south. This was becoming a dangerous game for both of them. His senses which were fine tuned at the best of times were in overload. The taste of the chocolate, the strawberries, Molly, the feel of the sun on his back and Molly's warm body underneath him. He wanted her, right here, right now and was so glad they were in public as he wasn't sure how this would have played out if they weren't.

When he broke the kiss they were both breathing heavily. He didn't dare suggest going back to the cottage yet as he wasn't sure he was able to guarantee any level of control. Instead he leant back as though nothing had just happened and carried on eating the strawberries and drinking his beer.

'Oh my God, Sher...' He quickly glared at her, 'I mean Will.' Molly glanced around glad to see that no one had been near enough to here her mistake. 'Wow, that was, wow...'

'Calm down Molly, you are my wife, it's not like we haven't done it before.' He smirked again.

Molly, was frustrated, how had he got the upper hand again. She had been trying to seduce him not the other way around, and she still wasn't sure whether he was just playing a part or not. God, he drove her mad, he was a constant enigma, did he like her or not? She knew she couldn't just ask him, he hated talk of emotions and feelings especially when it came to himself. He'd just deny everything and probably run. She needed more evidence.

Eventually Sherlock felt he had enough control to suggest they go back home. On arrival he took the files from Molly and tried to casually make his way to the study rather than flee from her. He didn't want her to realise the effect she was having on him or he'd be lost.

MHMHMHMHMHMH

It was still only early afternoon so Molly decided to spend some time working in the small back garden that came with the cottage. It had been years since she had done any gardening so she was looking forward to it.

She put on some casual clothes and headed out, basking in the autumnal rays of the sun, she was soon hard at work pruning back bushes and plants getting things ready for winter. She knew she didn't have to as they wouldn't be in the cottage that long but it was therapeutic doing some physical hard work.

What she didn't realise was she had an observer.

Tucked away in his study Sherlock had been initially engrossed in the files that Molly had stolen from Gordon's office. He was intrigued to see that they were both clients during the time that Gordon's son had worked there and his name was on some of the correspondence. Maybe it was time for a trip to London and pay the son a visit.

He heard some noise coming from the garden and glanced up. Molly was out there with some old tools she had no doubt found in the shed. She appeared to be gardening. Must be something she'd learnt as a child, probably her fathers influence. She reached up to cut the branches of the bush she was cutting back and her t shirt rode up exposing her flat stomach.

Sherlock's breath caught in his throat. His eyes roved across her petite form taking in the slim legs, looking longer as she stood on her tip toes, her small breasts pushing against the fabric of her t shirt, the long column of her neck as she looked up. The sunlight bathed her in a warm glow and he couldn't breathe, couldn't concentrate, couldn't think of anything but touching her, pushing that t shirt up her body exposing her to him.

He closed his eyes on the sight, shaking his head slightly. What was wrong with him today, first the picnic now this, he knew he was thinking like a horny teenager and he was worried he was going to act like one, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do anything to prevent it.

Instead he opened his eyes again and watched.

**So our Sherlocks getting his head turned by a pretty Molly. As for me I'll never look at a jar of chocolate spread again without smiling.**

**Hope you liked the kissing krankykittie.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Can't quite believe that I've received over 100 reviews for this story. I'm grateful for each and every one. **

**To Bella Cuore you can muse away as much as you want. I do hope nothing bad happens to Molly though in Season 4 :(, it would totally ruin my Sherlolly ship.**

**So...following the chocolate and the strawberries let the fun continue, normal disclaimers still apply.**

Molly couldn't believe how much her back and shoulders ached after all the gardening she had done that day but having any sort of garden was a novelty and she hadn't been able to resist getting out in the sunshine and tidying things up. She felt pleased about how much she had accomplished.

She was also thinking about the picnic with Sherlock earlier in the day and recalling that kiss with the strawberry which was quite simply one of the hottest kisses she had ever had. She was still a bit concerned that she was reading more into this relationship than Sherlock just playing a part. She needed proof that he felt something for her, something genuine, not just part of the role of Will Holmes.

She was sat on the side of the bed trying to rub her own shoulder muscles when he came out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He quirked an eyebrow at her contortions, 'I take it you might have overdone the gardening today?' he asked.

She groaned, 'yes, something like that.' She lay down in the bed, Sherlock turned off the light and she tried to get comfortable. All of a sudden she felt his hand on her shoulder, 'here, let me help' he muttered into the dark.

He started to massage her shoulder, moving his way along from her shoulder to her neck before repeating the same on the other side. Molly was surprised into silence at first, closing her eyes to the sensation of his hand on her, kneading the muscles, sliding along the top half of her back. His hand moved down her spine towards her lower back his thumb moving in lazy circles and it travelled lower before stopping at her hips and pressing into the muscles of her lower back.

Molly's mind was whirling, on top of the physical sensations her thoughts were tumbling over themselves. _What is he doing, why, does this mean anything, maybe he's just being nice? No Sherlock doesn't do nice. Should I say anything, god that feels so good. _She had to bite her lip to stop herself from moaning out loud. Aside from turning her on, which it most definitely was, her back was feeling so much better now, her muscles had stopped contracting and were starting to relax. She felt as though she were melting into the bed. His hand was moving back up to her shoulders, along her right hand side, his long fingers grazing the side of her breast. She heard his breath hitch when he realised what he had done but neither of them said anything. His hand slid down her right arm, fingernails lightly scraping her skin, he leant against her more as he did this and she could feel him against her back.

She couldn't help but press herself further against him, feeling his chest against her back separated only by her night shirt.

Sherlock suddenly pulled back, rolling quickly over he just said a gruff, 'Good night Molly'.

Molly had no idea what to do, the shock was all the greater for the suddenness of his withdrawal. She was literally squirming with need and pent up frustration. She couldn't let it end like this.

Still saying nothing she rolled over til she was facing his back and tentatively put her own hand on his shoulder. She felt his muscles tense quickly but she carried on moving her hand, kneading his shoulder, copying the way he had massaged and relaxed her muscles just a few moments before. Slowly she felt him start to relax into her touch.

Again like him she let her hand move down his back slowly, feeling the hardness of his muscles under the softness of his skin. She reached his lower back, her hand trailing across the top of his pyjama bottoms, letting her little finger slide under the waistband as she moved her hand to his side.

She couldn't resist letting her hand slide round to his stomach, moving across his flat abs, wondering again to herself how he managed to stay so fit when he seemed to spend most of his time either on his laptop or lying on his couch in his mind palace.

Her fingers danced across the muscles, her own body pressed against his back, her nipples hard and her breath on his shoulder. She wondered if she dared to kiss his back, millimetres from her lips but she was afraid to break the spell, afraid he would pull away from her a second time.

She brought her hand back to his side til it was resting on his hip and then slid it down his pyjamas along his thigh muscle before using her nails to lightly scrape as she brought her hand up again. She felt, rather than heard him groan. She repeated the move again and again her hand going a bit lower or a bit further forward on his leg each time until she was sliding her hand down the front of his thigh with the rest of her body pressed up against his back.

He rolled back over to face her catching hold of her hand as he did. She could just about see his eyes reflecting what little light there was in the room coming in through the curtains from the moon. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for the put down, the rejection which would surely follow.

Instead he bent his head towards hers and ever so gently pressed his lips against hers.

As kisses went it was very chaste. But it was almost as though it lit a spark in Molly and she wrapped her arms around him, her hands buried in the curls of his hair pulling him against her. She could feel his hands on her waist holding her lightly at first but as the kiss started to deepen his hands gripped her more tightly.

She no longer wanted to think about why he was doing this only that he was and she didn't want it to stop.

She lifted her leg to his hip and he grabbed the back of her thigh pulling her against him. She could feel how hard he was and knew he must want her too, though whether it was just a physical reaction rather than an emotional one she pushed to the back of her mind.

She could tell from his kisses and his touch that he wasn't completely inexperienced but she guessed it must have been a long time since he had been this intimate with someone but she was more than happy to take the lead to push things further so she leaned in to him, forcing him onto his back where she lifted herself so she was straddling him, her knees either side of his hips. All this happened without them even breaking the kiss.

In one quick move, before she could over think it and change her mind, she pulled her nightshirt over her head and threw it to one side and then she looked down at Sherlock seeing him in a way she never thought she would. Open and vulnerable beneath her, looking up at her with lust and longing in his eyes.

They looked at each other for a couple of seconds before his eyes were drawn down to her breasts. She watched as he brought his hand up, gently holding her breast, using his thumb to draw across her hardened nipple. Then he leant forward and took her nipple into his mouth and she knew this was really happening. She was going to have sex with Sherlock Holmes!

It didn't take much for her to move his pyjamas down and then she put her hand down and took hold of him. Sherlock gasped at her touch, faltering for a moment before biting down on her nipple, hard enough to elicit a moan but not so hard as to tip over into pain. She raised herself up on her knees positioning him at her entrance before sliding slowly down onto him. This time they both groaned together at the sensation.

She leant forward again, one hand taking her weight, whilst with the other she held Sherlock's head to her breast, feeling the softness of his hair between her fingers, his hardness inside her, twitching every so often, and his mouth, hot, warm and teasing at her breast. She had been waiting for this moment for years, she felt as though she had been frustrated and aching for him for most of that time and now she was here in the moment all her senses were in overload. She knew it wouldn't take long for her to come, but she was happy to string out that moment. Enjoying the build up, the sweet sensation of her orgasm rising but not quite there.

Gradually she started to rock against him, finding a rhythm and an angle which hit both her clit and her g spot. It felt amazing, he felt amazing. She could feel him pushing up into her, adjusting the pace to suit them both.

Sherlock started to kiss his way back up to her throat his hand wrapping in her hair pulling her mouth down to meet his. He lightly bit her lip before opening his mouth to hers in a deep, passionate kiss which rocked her to her foundations. She started to move faster against him, knew she wasn't going to last much longer. His tongue in her mouth and his hand on her breast sending her spinning over the edge into her orgasm.

As her muscles clenched around him he started to thrust up into her so hard she was almost lifted off the mattress. Her first orgasm seemed to morph into a second, Molly broke off from the kiss crying out 'Oh God, Sherlock' over and over feeling him release inside her.

They both seemed to collapse at the same time. Molly fell onto his chest, both of them breathing deeply, her head in the crook of his neck, his hands drawing random shapes lazily on her spine.

Molly closed her eyes for a moment revelling in the closeness that she felt with him but nervous as to what she should do or say now. She had absolutely no idea what might be going through Sherlock's mind and whether he was even happy or disappointed about what they'd done.

After a couple of moments he cleared his throat, indicating with his hands for Molly to let him up. She slid to the side watching as he made his way to the bathroom.

He came out a few minutes later wearing his dressing gown. He seemed preoccupied and almost nervous as he walked over to Molly. He bent down, kissing her on the forehead saying 'I'll be in my study, you get some sleep.' Molly closed her eyes not wanting to see him leave, knowing he must regret what they'd done. He paused at the door for a minute, his hand on the handle, his forehead resting on the door. 'I'm not good at emotion Molly and I do need time to process this, but don't think for a second that I'll regret this because I won't.' Then he opened the door and left.

**So, there we go, the deed is done. Hope it was worth the wait.**

**Next time, same again but this time from Sherlock's perpective!**

**Review, review, review...or favourite, whichever :).**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Thank you again for all your reviews. For those worried about birth control don't be, this won't turn into ParentLock. I assume Molly is on the pill and having lived with her Sherlock knows that. I didn't mention it because I didn't want to break the flow of the moment, I suppose that's often also the problem in real life :).**

**So for those reading at work, smut alert. Here we have it from Sherlock's perspective. Enjoy.**

**I owe it all to the creators ACD, Moffat and Gatiss and I am forever grateful.**

Deep down Sherlock knew exactly why he had started to give Molly that back massage. It had been a spur of the moment decision, based on his feelings seeing her in the garden earlier but as soon as he had put his hand on her back he knew it was a mistake.

The sensation of feeling her body, all be it through her nightshirt, was overwhelming for him. He was so attuned to gathering data using his senses that he couldn't help but feel and catalogue every bump and curve of her body. The texture of the silky material of her nightshirt, the softness of her skin, her hair tumbling over her shoulders that he had to gently move out of the way.

He closed his eyes in the dark willing himself to separate his mind from the physical activity but it was impossible. All those feelings about Molly that he had been repressing were starting to rush to the surface and he knew he wanted, craved more.

It was at that moment that the tips of his fingers brushed the side of her breast and he felt the pulse of blood rush to his penis, the situation only getting harder, in more ways than one, when Molly leant back against him. He knew if he didn't stop this now things would happen to change irrevocably his relationship with Molly and he wasn't sure he was ready for that. So he turned, quickly saying 'Good Night Molly' as he rolled surprising himself with how gruff his voice sounded. He desperately didn't want her to know how affected he was.

He lay in the dark, eyes closed,trying to regulate his breathing and regain control. His whole adult life had been about him controlling his mind, his body, his reactions. But that control seemed to be slipping away. He didn't know if it was because of Molly, or the situation following his 'death' or both but over the last few days he had felt more out of control than he had in years and if he were honest it scared him. He wondered how long he would have to wait before she were asleep and he could escape to his study, maybe he should just go now, she probably wouldn't realise his reason for running after all most people didn't deduce like he did.

He was about to get up when he felt her hand on his shoulder. There was no clothing in the way this time, just her hand on his bare skin moving and sliding. Sherlock couldn't remember the last time some one had touched him like this, if they ever had. Yes he'd had sex before, in his youth and during his drug phase. But none of them, from the memories he hadn't deleted, had ever touched him so gently, it was almost more intimate than sex. It seemed to affect him somehow, raising something within him but he couldn't quite place what it was.

All he knew was that he, with his control disintegrating around him, wanted more of it. So instead of running he relaxed into the sensations, allowing Molly to continue her ministrations. His mind felt quiet for the first time in a long while, all his thought processes narrowing down to her hand and where it was moving too. He could feel her fingers brushing the waistband of his pyjamas and almost wished he wasn't wearing them, God he was acting like a fool. He needed to stop this but still couldn't quite bring himself to do it, he relished the feel of her small hand trailing across his stomach and back again.

Then her hand was sliding down his leg, fingernails scraping along his pyjamas, he groaned before he could stop himself, feeling his cock growing, hardening. She repeated the move and her hand was getting closer and closer, her body pressed up against his back. He had to do something, had to take charge. He just wasn't sure what taking charge meant, leaving or staying. He grabbed her hand and rolled to face her.

His eyes caught hers in the semi-dark and he was shocked by the impact her gaze had on him. It was a combination of lust, compassion and adoration and he wanted it. He wanted all the emotion she could give him. He suddenly felt like a man who had been lost in the desert not realising how thirsty he had become so he dipped his head and kissed her drinking her in. Surrendering what little self-control he'd previously had, knowing that the only person who could stop them having sex now was Molly.

A small part of him knew this was a dangerous step. When he'd had sex in the past it was just screwing nameless faces, never remembering the who, the where or the how. He knew it wouldn't be like that with Molly. This would be something more, something he couldn't just wipe from his mind palace, hell he hadn't been able to delete anything else about them recently. But the feel of her lips moving against his, her hands curled in his hair, scraping his scalp were too good. Her leg hitched over his hip and he pulled her against himself wanting the friction of her body against his.

She was the only person, apart from his brother (who definitely didn't count) who knew he was still alive, who knew who he really was and he hadn't realised how much he needed that. Needed someone to anchor him to the person he once was, stop him from getting lost in endless personas and characters.

She pushed him onto his back straddling him, kissing him, driving him mad. When she broke away and swiftly removed her night shirt he looked up at her and she had never looked more beautiful, that was a compliment that Sherlock Holmes did not give lightly. The faint moonlight lit her body in hundreds of shades of grey, her hair framing her face, eyes dilated with lust, lips swollen from his kisses. It hit him like a brick wall, what it was he had felt earlier, it was emotion. He wanted Molly Hooper, he wanted to have sex with her, but more than that he cared, he cared about her and it made him gasp.

He reached for her breast rolling the nipple between his thumb and finger before leaning up and taking it in his mouth. He bit down lightly and at the same time she slowly impaled herself onto him and any logical coherent thought processes seemed to end. She felt amazing, warm and wet, perfect. It had been so long since he'd last had sex he'd forgotten how good the physical feelings were. He gave in to the slip and slide of their bodies, hearing her groans mixed with his, touching her, kissing her, feeling the desire building within him before releasing into her as he felt her coming around and above him.

She collapsed onto him and he was surprised at just how relaxed he felt as they recovered their breathing. His mind seemed clearer than it had in months, if not years. He could see everything falling into place, links in the cases that had seemed obscure before had clarity all of a sudden. He absolutely knew what he needed to do next, there were emails he had to send to Mycroft, this would probably mean a few days away.

He gave Molly a final embrace and then motioned for her to move so he could get up. He cleaned up quickly in the bathroom donning a new pair of pyjamas and dressing gown. As he came back into the bedroom he leant to kiss Molly before telling her he was going to his study and for her to get some sleep. He was elated by how beneficial this had been to his thought processes, he had always though it would dull his brain and interfere with his cases but it looked like that wasn't true.

As he started to leave part of him realised that running out like this might not be a good thing. He almost wished he had John here so he could check. He leant his head in the door briefly and thought about how he could reassure Molly 'I'm not good at emotion Molly and I do need time to process this, but don't think for a second that I'll regret this because I won't.' There. He felt pleased that he had reassured Molly rather than forgetting her feelings as he normally would. He opened the door and left.

**Let me know what you think!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**Sorry there was no update on the weekend, family stuff had to take priority. We're all back on track now though. **

**Time to move the plot line on, apologies again that Sherlock didn't solve this the first day he arrived, maybe he subconsciously wanted to spend time with Molly so that's why he didn't figure it out ;).**

By the time Molly awoke the next day Sherlock had gone. She had wandered downstairs ready to make them both some morning coffee only to find a note from him leaning against the kettle.

_'Gone to London to see M. Back in a few days, we can talk then.'_

The note was very Sherlock and very frustrating. It told her nothing. It neither informed her nor reassured her.

Two days passed along with another day working in Gordon's office and she was no closer to working out what, if anything, she should do.

He had reassured her before he had left the bedroom that he didn't regret what they had done and she believed him. He was nothing if not brutally honest. However, that didn't mean that he felt anything for her beyond sexual attraction and it didn't mean that we wanted to either 'do it' again or develop their 'relationship' (if she could even call it that) further.

She knew he did have a genuine need to be in London. They'd already discussed him going up to find out more about Gordon and Helen's son Rob, but he could also be using it as a reason to run away.

She was fed up though of dwelling on it and over-analysing, she needed a distraction so she had called Helen and asked her over for a girly night in.

Helen arrived just before eight with chocolates and a bottle of wine and they settled down in the front room for a chat

It wasn't long before the conversation turned to the men in their lives and Molly tried to talk about her issues with Sherlock without giving away the real situation.

She explained that he was often moody and engrossed in his work. She mentioned that she often worried that she loved him a lot more than he loved her.

Helen listened sympathetically to what Molly was saying and Molly found herself relieved to be able to talk about it, all be it in a limited capacity. She looked to the older woman for advice.

'Don't be his doormat dear, you need to make yourself more of a challenge. Men never want something as much when they know they can have it too easily. You make him work for your affections!'

Molly thought back over all her interactions with Sherlock. She had denied him nothing. He had always known that she was there for him in every capacity whether it was work or otherwise. Maybe she had given him nothing to work for.

'You are so lucky, you and Gordon seem very happy together.' Molly responded innocently.

Helen snorted, 'appearances can be deceptive, my dear. We married because it was expected, not because there was any great love there. I was the prettiest girl in the village and Gordon had the brightest prospects. I can't deny we've been happy together but there's never been any real passion.'

She took a gulp of her wine and continued, 'we haven't really slept together much over the last five years, even less so in the last eighteen months.'

She looked at Molly for a long moment chewing her lip as if weighing up whether to continue or not. In the end she blurted out 'I've been having an affair.'

'Oh,' replied a shocked Molly. She had seen none of the signs that Sherlock had seen so the admission was a complete surprise to her.

Helen continued, it was as if letting out that one statement had made a dam within her burst and it all came flooding out.

'I met him in London last year when I was helping Rob settle in. He sat at my table in a crowded coffee shop and we just got chatting. He was so interested in me, in my life, my job at Gordon's office, my feelings and interests. I had never had that. I felt reckless and mad, away from my normal life. We went to a hotel room that afternoon and the sex was amazing. He made me do things and feel things I had never felt before.'

Helen blushed and looked down at the wine glass she held in her hand. She told Molly about the secret meetings in their local town, she had told Gordon she was helping at a local charity but it was all a sham.

Molly listened in a kind of shocked fascination. She felt sorry for Gordon and a bit unsure as to how to respond but then Helen dropped the bombshell.

'Sebastian wants me to leave Gordon. We've been working together, putting money aside.'

Links were starting to form in Molly's mind and alarm bells were ringing.

'How...how have you been working together?'

Helen smiled slyly, 'I've been passing details of some of Gordon's cases to Seb. He's been making contact with the clients and helping them in ways that Gordon can't. He said it's best that I don't know too many of the details but he's assured me it was nothing too illegal.'

'You need to be careful,' Molly stressed, suddenly concerned for Helen, 'Moran is dangerous, he's been using you.'

As the words left her mouth Molly knew she had made a mistake.

Helen's eyes hardened, her lips narrowing from an open smile to a thin line. 'How do you know his surname? How could you possibly know that?'

Molly tried to think quickly, she knew that Sebastian Moran was the link to Moriarty's network and that he must have been the guy that she and Sherlock had seem in town just over a week ago, he'd met with Gordon so Gordon must know about the affair.

'I saw him in town and recognised him. He was arguing with Gordon which means Gordon knows about your affair. He must have been warning him off,' rattled off Molly desperately.

Helen leaned over, topping up Molly's glass before sipping her own wine thoughtfully.

Molly took a deep draught of the wine needing something to calm her nerves.

'That still doesn't explain how you knew who he was.'

Molly was in trouble and she knew it, she wasn't sure what to do or say to get out of this. She couldn't blow Sherlock's cover, it was vital that he being alive be kept secret.

Helen carried on talking to herself, reprimanding herself for having mentioned the affair. In some ways she seemed just as confused as Molly. 'Maybe Seb will know what to do with you?' With that she picked up her phone and went into the adjoining kitchen.

Molly felt dizzy, she tried to stand but found she couldn't. Her stomach dropped as she realised she had been drugged. She had been stupid and now she had been drugged, Sherlock would be so disappointed with her...Sherlock, she needed him to know.

She fumbled for her phone concentrating hard to control her fingers. She had to reach him, had to let him know it was Helen and not Rob. The phone was dialling but she kept it down by her leg so Helen wouldn't see it and take it off her. She faintly heard him answer, saying her name. There were black spots at the edges of her vision and she knew she didn't have many more moments of consciousness. She called out to Helen, 'Helen, what have you done? You've drugged me, I can't move. Please stop this, it's not too late. Moran is not your lover he's using you...please...'

She was trying to give Sherlock as much information as possible and only hoped he could hear her. She could feel herself losing consciousness, was no longer sure whether she had lost her vision or closed her eyes. She thought of Sherlock remembering their last night together and was glad that if that was her last thought on this planet at least it was a good one.

**Da, da, daaaa...poor Molly and where is Sherlock? Will he make it in time...let me know what you think!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**So here we have it the final chapter, but is it the end of their story? You'll have to read on to find out. **

**I'm still pinching myself that I've actually written a story this long let alone the fact that I've had such great reviews. Thank you for each and every one, you have no idea how rewarding and encouraging it is to receive them.**

**So enjoy, or maybe not, who knows...**

**Normal disclaimers apply.**

Sherlock was in the car, on his way back to the cottage, when his mobile rang. His dashboard display told him that it was Molly. He accepted the call wondering why she was ringing. It was much more like her to text, at least when it came to him it was.

He waited for her to speak but when he was greeted by silence he said her name, 'Molly...Molly are you there.' He could faintly hear her and was just starting to think that maybe she had dialled in error when he noted the difficulty she was seemingly having with her breathing.

He brought the car to a swift halt, turning off the engine and bringing the phone to his ear so he could hear her better.

He was just contemplating whether to call her name once more when he heard her trying to speak. He strained to make it out.

'Helen, what have you done? You've drugged me, I can't move. Please stop this, it's not too late. Moran is not your lover he's using you...please...'

At this her voice seemed to give out, Sherlock felt sick. He threw the phone onto the passenger seat and frantically started the car again. He had been a damned fool, it was Helen, not her son.

He had seen the signs of an affair but had disregarded it as petty and unimportant. He should have seen...and now Molly was paying the price for his stupidity.

As he drove, breaking the speed limit to get back to the village, he dialled his brother. He quickly outlined what was happening, demanding that Mycroft send people round to assist Molly.

Mycroft promised he would round up anyone in the area and make them available for Sherlock's use but made it clear that they probably wouldn't arrive before he himself did.

He made his way through the village, his mind racing with all the possible outcomes. He knew his best plan of action would be to lie in wait to see if Moran was there or would turn up...but that would leave Molly unprotected. She had obviously been drugged but he had no idea what she had been given. The limited data he had could point to either a simple sedative through to deadly poison. Could he really afford to wait?

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

It was three hours later when Mycroft made his way through the hospital corridors to the private room where he knew his brother was located.

He walked in to a sight he was only somewhat prepared to see. His brother was sat by the bedside of the sleeping pathologist, holding her hand like a simpering idiot.

He had already received a briefing from the senior field agent he'd assigned to the case. She had made him aware that Sherlock had taken the decision to go into the cottage alone, before back up had arrived. He had apprehended the woman, Helen, and called an ambulance for Molly but the activity from there on in had ensured that there was no trace of Moran. A perfect opportunity had been lost, and for what, sentiment.

'Brother, we most definitely need to talk' he said as he closed the door behind him.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly awoke in a hospital bed. She recognised the sounds and smells before she had the strength to open her eyes. When she did she glanced around her room desperately looking for Sherlock.

Instead she saw Mycroft sitting quietly in a chair by her bed, his ubiquitous umbrella leaning against the bedside cabinet.

'If you are looking for my brother, as you no doubt are, it's no good. He's left the country.'

At Molly's gasp he raised an eyebrow, 'come now Ms Hooper, you didn't really think he would be playing happy families with you for the foreseeable future. He has a job to do and he can do it so much better without 'sentimental' distractions.' He smiled with that false sweet smile that Molly knew was completely insincere.

He said the words in the same cold way that Sherlock sometimes would and Molly wondered, not for the first time, what had caused the brothers to be so wary of feelings and emotion.

'What happened?' She asked, her mouth feeling dry, her throat aching.

Mycroft passed her a glass of water, 'I've always told my brother that caring is not an advantage and this was a case in point. He rescued the damsel in distress instead of catching the bad guy.'

Molly sipped at her water trying to control her emotions as he continued, 'we had a perfect opportunity to catch Moran. He was on his way to your cottage, at the request of his lover, no doubt to finish you off,' at this he smiled again at Molly causing her to feel a bit sick. He paused for a moment and then continued. 'Instead of waiting until my men arrived and we could apprehend Moran my brother had to rush in... to be the hero and save the girl. The upshot is we have Helen in custody, you here, but Moran has fled to god knows where.'

'My brother realises the error of his ways and as I said has now left the country. Best of course that you don't know where Ms Hooper. Just know that your job at Bart's is awaiting you, you have another weeks leave to recuperate. I'm sure my brother would want me to thank you for your co-operation in this matter.'

He stood,'oh yes, in case you notice I took the liberty of retrieving my families rings from your belongings. You won't be requiring them any longer. Good day to you Ms Hooper.'

He made to leave.

Molly suddenly panicked. Her last link to Sherlock was about to leave and she had no idea how to contact Sherlock, where is was or when, if ever, she would see him again. She was also furious with Mycroft, how dare he speak to her like this and put down her feelings for Sherlock as a distraction.

He'd reached the door by the time she spoke. 'It's Doctor Hooper to you Mister Holmes. Don't forget it was my sentimental feelings that kept your brother alive in the first place. I risked my job to keep him safe, I wouldn't have done that for someone I felt nothing for. In this case caring most definitely was an advantage.'

Mycroft just stared at her, unmoved. She was about to let him leave when a thought occurred to her.

'Mycroft, wait,' she said hurriedly. He sighed and turned back once more, not for the first time she could see the similarity with Sherlock, not in his looks but in his gestures, his mannerisms. 'I know you don't like my... relationship with Sherlock but I have to ask you one thing.'

Mycroft lifted an eyebrow in enquiry.

'If he d...If something happens to him,' she faltered but grimly carried on, 'please let me know. I need to know if he's...' At this Molly trailed off not able to finish the request. Tears were burning her eyes threatening to fall and she didn't want Mycoft to see them.

Mycroft understood what she was asking and tilted his head in acknowledgement before leaving the room.

Molly could only hope that wherever Sherlock was in he world that he was safe and that maybe, just maybe he was thinking of her too.

**I know, I know you're probably all going to hate me now. I was originally going to end the story here with Sherlock by the bedside all hearts, rainbows and unicorns but Mycroft wouldn't let me. **

**We argued for a while but he won, he explained that finishing the story here wouldn't explain Season 3 at all and would just be wrong.**

**On the upside, and as an apology from me, I'm posting Chapter 1 of the sequel, The Fake Engagement, today so you can carry on the tale where this left off straight away. **

**Please review and please join me over on the new story. See you all soon.**


End file.
